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Chapter Text

Doc and I both vividly remember the first time I was seriously injured by a gunman’s bullet. It occurred about six months after I began serving as the U.S. Marshal for Kansas, based out of Dodge City. I was thirty-two years of age when this incident occurred, well in the prime of my life. Had it not been for Doc’s patience and care, I probably would’ve died that day. The gunman was Dan Grat. He was faster than me, but as I soon learned, he had an Achilles heal…

***

“How is he now, Doc?”

“How can I tell? I can’t tell yet, Chester.”

“Can you tell me?”

“Kitty, if I could tell you, I could tell me.”

“I see…”

“Doc, can’t you do something?”

“Something? Chester, if you…”

“I mean, something better than what you been doing.”

“He was hit in the chest, as long as creased along the forehead. Now, we’ll know what damage it did when he comes to and not before. I’m doing everything I can do for him.”

“I know, but couldn’t you do just a little bit more?”

“Another fraction of an inch and he’d be dead! Now, as it is, he may be all right in ten days, or well, who knows? I don’t.”

“You want us out of here, don’t you, Doc?”

“Thank you, Kitty.”

“Come on, Chester.”

“Doc?”

“Yes, yes, yes?”

“I wanted to kill Grat. I still do.”

“Well, that wouldn’t help a thing.”

“It’s a terrible thing watching a man like Mister Dillon get shot that way.”

“I’ll buy you a drink, Chester.”

“If Mister Dillon dies, I’ll get me a shotgun and kill Grat. I’ll blow him in half… Then we’ll see how fast he is…”

“Chester, will you get…. Kitty! Take him out of here.”

“Come on, Chester.”

“I’ll go. But I sure hate to think of Grat standing at some bar bragging how he shot down a U.S. Marshal…”

***

76 hours later

I know it seems somewhat cliché, but the first sensation I became aware of as I regained consciousness was a feeling like I was floating on a soft, fluffy cloud. I couldn’t feel my body, but I was so comfortable that I initially didn’t care. Then a new sensation hit me. Pain. And not a dull aching pain either. This pain was a sharp, shooting pain that seemed to explode from the right side of my chest straight to my brain.

In an instant, the fluffy cloud evaporated out from under me, only to be replaced by a somewhat hard surface. I gasped, but it came out as an anguished sob. The very act of breathing only made the pain more intense, if that was even possible.

“Easy, Matt,” Doc’s familiar voice soothed. I felt his fingers curl around my left wrist, no doubt to feel for my pulse. “I know it hurts. Just try and lie still for me.”

It was then that I became aware of the incessant pounding in my forehead. Moaning, I reached to touch it with my right hand. Doc was faster. He grabbed hold of my right hand, pushing it back down against my side.

“I said don’t move,” Doc growled. “Can’t risk you tearing those stitches out.”

Slowly, I blinked open my eyes. Through blurred vision, I could just make out the hazy figure of Doc, standing on my left, staring anxiously down at me. I was lying prostrate on the leather covered examination table in his front office, naked from the waist up. At least whoever had undressed me had left the lower half of my long johns on, providing me with a small semblance of dignity. A wide bandage was wrapped firmly around my chest. From the amount of light in the room, I sensed that it was daytime.

“Doc…?” My voice was so soft, and I was in such a daze that I wasn’t sure if my voice had even been audible. Doc patted my left shoulder with fatherly affection.

“Yeah, Matt. I’m here. Glad to have you back with us at last.”

I stared up at him, silently asking the question. How long?

Fortunately, Doc knew me well enough by then to interpret my unasked question from my expression alone.

“You’ve been unconscious for about three days, son. I was starting to worry. Not that I wasn’t already worried...”

I swallowed, but it was an effort considering how dry my throat was.

“Thought I was…in Heaven…” I panted. Every breath I took made me feel like I’d just run a marathon.

“Well, you might have put one foot over the threshold of them pearly gates, but I don’t think Heaven is quite ready for you yet!” Doc quipped, his voice filled with relief. He swiped his mustache; a habit he’d acquired long ago. “Spat you right back out, it seems… Do you think you can drink some water for me?”

I attempted to nod, but the slight movement caused my aching head to explode in fiery agony. Before I could stop it, a low groan escaped my lips. Doc carefully slipped his right arm under my shoulders, raising me a few inches off the pillow. He pressed a glass of water to my lips.

“Sip it slowly,” Doc instructed.

The water was cool and soothing to my dry mouth and throat. I managed to drink about two-thirds of the water in the glass before a wave of exhaustion hit me. I tilted my head back slightly, to indicate that I’d had enough. Doc gently eased me back down onto the pillow. I let out a tired sigh.

“I want to give you something for the pain, but I know how stubborn you are about taking medicine,” Doc grumbled. “Don’t want to have that argument with you again while you’re like this.”

He wasn’t wrong. Three months earlier, I’d suffered through a head cold for well over two weeks because I’d stubbornly refused to take any of Doc’s prescriptions that could have shortened the duration of the illness. Doc had been furious, and even more so when he’d found out that I was still working and not even resting, but all he could do was grumble over my stubbornness and apparent stupidity. My aversion to taking medications wasn’t a reflection on my trust in Doc’s skills. It was due to how groggy and nauseating many medicines made me feel. As a lawman, I felt my responsibilities keenly, and so I refused to ingest anything that could inebriate me. I was even careful about how much alcohol I drank, preferring to drink coffee throughout the day instead of beer. However, a simple head cold was completely different to a near-fatal bullet wound.

“I could take something...” I conceded, wincing slightly.

Doc did a double take, almost as though he’d misheard me. “What did you say?”

“I’ll take the medicine,” I said a little louder. “It can’t make me feel any worse than I already am.”

Doc grunted with approval. He went over to his medicine cabinet that stood against the wall behind where my head lay, just out of my peripheral vision. I lay quietly with my eyes closed, waiting for him to return to my side. I focused on the sounds I could hear – glass clinking, liquid being poured and Doc’s soft footsteps as he crossed the wooden floorboards.

I managed to open my heavy eyelids a slit when I sensed Doc standing alongside me again. This time, he only raised my head a little to help me drink the medicine. From the pungent smell and bitter taste, I knew that he was giving me a dose of laudanum. I managed to swallow the whole dose, grimacing as Doc gently rested my head back down on the pillow.

After setting the empty medicine glass down, Doc placed a light blanket over me.

“There. That should help you sleep,” Doc soothed. “It’s what you need the most right now.”

The last thing I was aware of as I drifted off to sleep was Doc listening to my heart and lungs with his stethoscope.

***

I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but the next time I stirred it was sometime during the middle of the night. I knew that, because Doc’s office was dark. The only light came from the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the lace window curtains.

It didn’t take me long to realize why I’d awakened. I need to go to the toilet, badly. Knowing that Doc kept a chamber pot under the washstand for his patients to use, I attempted to sit up. I immediately regretted doing so. My right side exploded in a sharp, stabbing bolt of pain, making me cry out before I could stop myself.

Doc, who’d been asleep in the back room, was awakened by my scream of agony. Within seconds, he was at my side, despite only being dressed in his nightshirt and slippers.

“Matt! Is everything all right?”

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and panted, clutching at my chest, willing the terrible pain to subside. Beads of sweat pooled on my face, reflecting just how much pain I was in. Doc went over to his desk, so he could light a lamp. A soft amber glow filled the room.

“Matt?”

“Need…to pee…” I whispered. Fortunately, I was in so much agony there was little room left for embarrassment.

Doc pressed my shoulders down onto the table as he walked past me to get to the washstand.

“Lie still.”

Instead of the chamber pot, Doc brought a porcelain urinal over. Within a few minutes, I was able to relieve myself in relative privacy under the blanket. Once I was finished, Doc put the urinal aside to empty in the morning. He then set about washing his hands thoroughly at the washstand.

“Thanks Doc,” I whispered.

Doc was already drying his hands. “Don’t mention it. However, next time, just call me. Don’t try to get up on your own. There’s no shame in asking for help when you need it.”

“Sure,” I reluctantly agreed. “Thought I could make it, is all.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“I just hate being so…helpless…”

Doc tossed the towel aside and he came back over to me. Leaning over, he made eye contact with me. “Matt, I’ll say it to you plainly, so you can quit fighting me. You’re not going anywhere for more than a week.”

My eyes widened as that revelation sank in. “A week? Just how badly was I hurt?”

“You remember being shot?”

I swallowed, focusing on the ceiling, trying to remember just how I’d ended up in Doc’s care. After a moment, I shook my head a little. Doc sighed.

“Does the name Dan Grat ring any bells?”

“Dan Grat…” As I repeated the name, an image filled my mind. I could see two men out in the middle of the street – one standing and the other lying dead. “…He killed Sheriff Hill…”

Doc nodded. “That’s right. And then you had the fool notion of attempting to arrest Grat too. He gunned you down before you could even get a decent shot off.”

I wet my dry lips with the tip of my tongue. “Did he do much damage?”

“Well, you were fortunate. The bullet embedded itself in the cartilage of your rib cage, around your ninth rib. I was able to get it out, but it wasn’t easy. Had it passed between your ribs, or gone another half an inch deeper, it would’ve punctured your lung and killed you. The other bullet creased your forehead.”

Hearing that, I raised my left hand to my forehead, feeling for the scab. “That explains the headache...”

Doc grunted indifferently. “That’s the least of my concerns now that you’ve regained consciousness. Cartilage is different to bone, so it’ll take much longer to heal. You’ll be sore for a good while yet regardless, due to the bruised and torn muscles in your chest. Just be grateful I’m only going to attempt to keep you in here for about a week. That’s how long it should take that bullet wound to close over.”

I groaned as a wave of pain rippled throughout my chest. While it wasn’t the first time I’d been shot, it was the worst shooting injury I’d sustained so far. During the war, I’d been hit by a musket ball just below my right knee. Fortunately, it hadn’t gone all the way through, but it had become infected. Miraculously, I’d recovered from the infection without losing my leg, unlike many young men who were wounded during the war. The wound was bad enough for me to be medically discharged from the army following my recovery. The injury still bothered me from time to time, making me limp slightly, but I was grateful that my war wound hadn’t been as bad as Chester’s. Aside from that, I’d only been creased by a few bullets during my time learning the ropes as Deputy U.S. Marshal in Yuma, Arizona.

Now that I knew my injuries, I was content to go back to sleep. Doc must’ve seen me close my eyes, because he adjusted the blanket over me, doing his best to make me comfortable.

“Good night, Matt.”

“ ‘Night, Doc.”

***

When I next awoke, it was mid-morning. It took me a moment to realize that the reason I’d woken was because my chest was aching again. The headache exploded in my forehead, causing me to moan softly.

Hearing me, Doc got up from his desk. I slowly blinked open my eyes, but I found it difficult to focus. Again, Doc’s face appeared blurred in my vision. In fact, everything was blurry now.

“How are you feeling, Matt?” Doc asked gently.

“Been better,” I muttered, trying hard not to show how much pain I was in.

Doc glanced at his pocket watch. “Well, you’re about due for some more pain relief…”

My blurred vision was beginning to make me feel nauseous, so I closed my eyes. I listened quietly while Doc prepared another dose of laudanum for me.

“Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“I really don’t feel so good…”

Realizing what I meant, Doc quickly snatched up a bucket from under the examination table, and he held it up for me. I rolled over onto my left side, propping myself up on my elbow while I dry retched into the bucket. Honestly, if there is anything worse than vomiting, it’s needing to vomit while having an empty stomach.

Doc watched on with a look of concern. After setting the empty bucket aside, he helped me lie back down. He put on his glasses and stared into my eyes for a moment.

“Looks like you’re still concussed,” Doc stated. “Your vision blurred?”

I nodded pitifully. Doc collected the laudanum from where he’d left it, and he brought the glass to my lips. After getting a taste of the bitter medicine, I twisted my face away in disgust.

“Come on, Matt,” Doc encouraged, sliding a hand under my head to help prevent me from refusing again. “I know it’s bitter, but it’ll help ease the pain, and stop the nausea.”

Reluctantly, I swallowed the medicine without further protest. Within minutes, I’d fallen back to sleep under the laudanum’s heavy influence.

***

I slowly became aware of my surroundings again. Doc was standing beside me, stethoscope in his ears, listening to my heart and lungs. He removed the stethoscope when he saw my eyelids flutter open. I heard him exhaled heavily with relief as he rested his fists on the table and leaned on them, bowing his head.

“Oh, thank goodness! You had me worried there for a while, Matt.”

“Why?” My voice sounded awful. Doc remedied that by pressing a glass of water to my lips. I sipped it slowly.

“You’ve been asleep for almost two days, since I gave you that last dose of laudanum,” Doc explained, his voice still filled with concern. “I’m sure you needed it, but you had me worried that you’d slipped into a coma. At least you’re awake now. It’s been over five days since you were shot, so I think you’re through the worst of it now. How are you feeling?”

I stopped drinking to give myself a moment to self-analyze. “Well, you’re no longer blurry… I think the headache’s gone… Chest still aches…” Feeling a twinge in my chest, I winced.

“It will for some time, I’m afraid. Finish this water, and then I’ll let you rest some more.”

I managed to swallow the rest of the water in the glass. Doc took a moment to rearrange the blanket covering me.

“Doc? How’s Kitty?”

Doc glanced at me, trying to mask his surprise. “She’s doing all right. She’s been up here to see you a couple of times, but you were always asleep. I told her I’d let her know when you’re strong enough to receive visitors.”

I let out a wistful sigh. Doc tenderly patted my shoulder.

“She’s a strong woman, Matt. You’re lucky to have her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?”

“As a friend, I mean,” Doc quickly added, swiping his mustache.

Like most people in Dodge, Doc suspected that Kitty and I were courting, but he didn’t know for sure. To be frank, I wasn’t even sure if I was courting her. Sure, we flirted with each other, as was only natural between single young adults, but I regarded our relationship as little more than a close friendship. After all, we’d only met just over a month earlier, the day she’d arrived in town.

Doc patted my shoulder again. “Rest, Matt. I have some paperwork I need to catch up on.”

With nothing else to do, I closed my eyes and lay still. I listened to the soft scratching of Doc’s nib pen on paper, which was surprisingly comforting. Before long, the sound of the pen lulled me into a light doze, with only my sense of hearing remaining alert.

I probably would’ve dozed for longer, had it not been for Chester. He knocked on the door to Doc’s office, loud enough to rouse me back to full consciousness. I decided to continue lying still with my eyes closed and just listen.

“Come on in, Chester,” Doc invited after opening the door.

“I hope you don’t mind, Doc, I just come to see how Mister Dillon’s going.”

“Well, as you can see, he’s still with us.”

I heard them come closer to the examination table where I was lying. I sensed Chester leaning over me, while Doc checked my pulse.

“Has he come round yet? Kitty said he was still asleep when she visited yesterday.”

“He’s had a few waking moments over the past few days. In fact, he regained consciousness again about twenty minutes ago,” Doc confirmed. “He’s just been sleeping mostly. And healing.”

“Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you’d know more once he woke up…?”

Doc gave an exasperated sigh. “I haven’t had a chance to conduct a full assessment yet, but from the brief interactions I’ve had with him, I’d say he’s going to make a full recovery.”

Chester breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good! Because if he don’t I’ll take on Dan Grat myself!”

“Don’t be stupid, Chester! Grat would gun you down faster than he did Matt, and you might not be so fortunate to survive!”

With their voices getting louder, I chose that moment to pretend to wake up. I let out a soft groan as I slowly blinked open my eyes.

“There, now, look at what you’ve done!” Doc growled. “You’ve gone and woken him! Just when he’d gone back to sleep again too!”

“You’re the one who woke me, Doc,” I muttered, shifting my hips a little to make myself more comfortable on the hard tabletop.

Gazing up to my left, I saw Chester grinning. Doc, standing next to him, scowled. He swiped his mustache, trying to hide his annoyance.

“Well, now that I’m awake again, could I have another drink please, Doc?”

“Sure Matt.”

While Doc was fetching another glass of water, I attempted to prop myself up on my elbows. Chester helped me a little. The effort left me panting and wincing. Doc brought a glass of water over. He pressed the rim to my lips, and I began to drink. The cool water was a refreshing reminder of just how lucky I’d been. I drained the glass, which seemed to please Doc. He handed the empty glass to Chester.

“While you’re sitting up, I’d like to change those bandages.”

I nodded in agreement. It felt good to sit up, despite it leaving me feeling breathless. After putting on his glasses, Doc washed his hands thoroughly before setting to work. He gently unwrapped the bandage from around my chest.

“Chester, could you fill a basin with cold water and fetch a bar of soap, a sponge and a couple of clean towels from the back room?” Doc asked.

“Oh, sure thing, Doc.”

Chester hurried into the back room to complete his errand. I gazed at Doc.

“What do you need that for?”

“Thought I’d give you a sponge bath. Clean you up a bit.”

Doc carefully removed the gauze pad that was covering the stitches in my chest. I winced when I saw the bullet wound for the first time. It looked red and sore, but was clearly healing. Doc gently felt the wound, doing his best not to hurt me.

“That’s looking good, Matt. Better than I expected, considering… It’s warm, which means that it’s healing, and I can’t see any signs of infection. I think it’s safe enough to move you over to the cot now. You’ll sleep better there.”

“Perhaps,” I replied, smirking cheekily.

Chester returned then, carrying a large basin. “Here’s the water, Doc.”

“Thanks, Chester. Just set it down on that bench there.”

“I got the other items too.”

Doc took them from Chester. Chester leaned over, staring at my stitches. He whistled softly.

“I must say, Mister Dillon, that looks like it hurts!”

“It’s not so bad now,” I told him.

Doc wrung out the sponge. He then began giving me the sponge bath, starting with my face. Despite being cold, the wash felt really good. I just wished I could shave too, to remove my beard stubble. However, that would have to wait. Doc covered my stitches with a small towel while he washed my chest, to prevent them getting wet. He then ran the damp, soapy sponge over both of my arms and finally my back. By the time he’d finished, I was fully relaxed and beginning to tire.

“Thanks, Doc,” I said gratefully.

“Matt, if you promise not to touch those stitches, I’ll leave the bandages off for now,” Doc said as he gently patted my body dry with the largest towel. “The wound will heal faster if it’s allowed to breathe.”

“Breathe?” Chester was confused.

“Exposed to air,” Doc clarified. “Chester, help me get him over to the cot.”

“All right…”

With Doc and Chester supporting me on both sides, I got down from the examination table. A sharp pain radiated from my ribs, making me gasp. Fortunately, it was only a couple of steps to get to the cot. Doc pulled down the bed-covers, while Chester helped me sit on the edge of the mattress. By that point, I was gasping and whimpering from the effort. I eased myself down onto the pillow. Doc swung my legs around, tucking them under the bed-covers.

“Thanks Doc… Chester…” I panted. “Could do with another drink…”

Doc refilled the glass, and he brought it over to me. This time, I took the glass with my left hand, and I started to drink the water steadily. Once I’d drained the glass, I handed it back to Doc.

“Thanks. I don’t know why I’m so thirsty…”

“You haven’t been able to drink for a good number of days, that’s why. You need to re-hydrate,” Doc explained. “I think that’s enough excitement for you now, Matt. You need to rest, and Chester you need to get out of here.”

“All right, I’m going, Doc,” Chester grumbled as he headed towards the door.

“Chester?” I called.

“Yes, Mister Dillon?”

“Say hello to Kitty for me.”

“I’ll do that, Mister Dillon.”

“Thanks.”

I smiled wistfully as Chester left, until I caught Doc glaring sternly at me. Begrudgingly, I settled down to sleep, resting my head on the pillow. It was too hot for the blanket, so I left my naked upper body uncovered. Doc went over to his desk to resume his paperwork.

I lay quietly, waiting for sleep to return to me. However, as tired as I was, sleep wasn’t forthcoming. Maybe it was because I was now lying on the cot, or maybe it was because it was broad daylight. I’ll never be certain.

Doc must’ve sensed that I was still awake, because after about half an hour, he stood up and came over to me.

“You’re supposed to be asleep by now,” he admonished. “Why aren’t you?”

I shrugged. Doc frowned as he grabbed my right wrist to feel my pulse. He then went over to the medicine cabinet.

“I don’t want any more laudanum, Doc,” I told him firmly.

Doc paused, perhaps realizing that I meant it. With a resigned sigh, he glanced at his pocket watch.

“Well, it’s just about lunchtime anyway. I’ll heat up the broth I made for you yesterday.”

Turning my head, I watched as Doc went over to the pot-belly stove in the far corner of the room to heat up the broth. I was actually hungrier for something more substantial than broth, but I knew Doc probably wouldn’t appreciate me saying so. He was, after all, first and foremost my doctor, and as far as my health went, he knew best.

A few minutes later, Doc returned to my side, carrying the lukewarm broth in a mug. I slowly sat up, doing my best to mask the pain I was in. After I’d taken hold of the mug, Doc added the pillow from the examination table to the one already on the cot, giving me something soft to lean against while I was sitting up.

I began to sip the broth slowly, pleasantly surprised to find that Doc had remembered that I liked beef broth. With Doc watching me closely, I continued drinking slowly, finishing most of the broth. The inner warmth in my stomach began to make me feel drowsy. Or perhaps, as I later suspected, Doc may have slipped a little sleeping powder into the broth. At any rate, Doc noticed my drooping eyelids, so he gently prised the mug from my hands.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I’m hungry, but…”

“It’s all right, Matt,” Doc soothed. “You get some more sleep.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice.

***

Hunger pangs are what brought me back to consciousness about four hours later that same day. With a weary sigh, I slowly blinked open my eyes. Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall, I saw that it was a little before three o’clock.

“Doc?” I called.

When there was no answer, I attempted to sit up. It was then that I realized that Doc had placed a note under my right hand. Settling back down on the pillows, I unfolded the note.

Matt,

Gone on emergency call out. Back soon.

There’s a glass of water and a dose of laudanum on the washstand. Don’t strain yourself trying to reach them.

Doc.

I sat up slowly, twisting my body carefully. The added pressure on my ribs caused me to gasp from the sharp stab of pain. However, I managed to retrieve the glass of water from the washstand behind the headboard of the cot without spilling any. I remained sitting up on the cot, pulling my long legs up so I could rest my arms on my knees. I then began sipping the water slowly.

I’d only drunk about half of the water when I heard someone coming up the stairs. Leaning forwards, I pulled the lace curtain aside so I could peak out of the open window. It was Doc. He was looking down, watching his step, so he didn’t see me leaning on the windowsill, watching him climb the stairs.

“Hello Doc,” I called as he drew level with the window.

Doc’s head snapped up. “Matt! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Just admiring the view. It’s not fun being locked up inside for days. I feel like I’m in jail.”

I chuckled over the irony of what I’d just said. Doc swiped his mustache.

“Guess I can’t argue with that…”

A few seconds later, Doc entered the office. I remained sitting up, so I could finish off the water. While I was doing that, Doc placed his medical bag down on the desk and he removed his coat.

“What was the emergency?” I asked, my professional curiosity coming to the fore.

“A herd boss was killed. Came into town to see if Dodge could accommodate his outfit.”

“Do you know who did it?”

Doc stared down at the floor as he shook his head. “Chester was there before me. I’m sure he’d know.”

I frowned. I had a feeling Doc knew more than what he was telling me. He was such a hopeless liar.

“It was Dan Grat, wasn’t it?”

Doc couldn’t mask his surprise. “How did you know?”

I shrugged. “Educated guess… How much longer are you planning to keep me here?”

“As long as you need it and not a moment less. I see you’ve just about finished that water, which is good. I’m annoyed, but not surprised, you didn’t touch the laudanum. Are you hungry?”

My empty stomach growled loudly at the mere mention of food. Hearing it, Doc smirked.

“Guess that answers my question. I’ll cook up some scrambled eggs for you.”

“That’s not enough for a grown man!” I protested.

“It’s enough for a groaning, cocky, over-grown public servant who’s had nothing but liquids for the past few days,” Doc countered sternly. “As long as you’re in my care, I’ll decide what you’ll eat and drink, and when.”

I pouted, but conceded. “Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“I, uh… I need to use your commode…”

“Well, you sure picked a good time for that!” Doc grumbled. However, I could see from the amused sparkle in his eyes that my request pleased him professionally as a doctor. To him, my humble request was a positive sign that I was healing well internally.

Taking care not to aggravate my sore rib, Doc supported me as best he could as we walked the short distance into his back room. I swayed a little as we walked, since my leg muscles were a little weak and stiff from lack of use, but we made it without too much trouble.

“Take your time, and call out if you need me,” Doc instructed, closing the door behind him as he left the room, giving me some much appreciated privacy.

I emerged from the back room about five minutes later. I was walking a little better now, but my injured rib was very unhappy about it. Doc hooked an arm around my waist, helping me back over to the cot. I sat down on the edge of the mattress with an exhausted sigh.

“I’ll cook those eggs for you now,” Doc offered.

“Thanks. You couldn’t throw some bacon into the pan too, could you?”

“Tell you what? You can have a soft bread roll with the eggs, okay?”

I let out a weary sigh. “Fine.”

“If you can mange this, I’ll let you have some stew for dinner,” Doc promised.

“I look forward to it,” I muttered sarcastically.

I reclined on the cot, resting my back against the wall. Doc went over to the stove, and he began to fry the eggs. A few minutes later, Doc carried a plate with the eggs and roll on it over to me, handing me a fork as well.

“Try and eat as much as you can, Matt. You need to start getting your strength back.”

“Thanks Doc.”

Doc leaned against the examination table, watching me as I began to eat. The scramble eggs were bland, due to the lack of salt and pepper, and the bread was unbuttered, but I knew that Doc had his reasons for serving it that way.

I was so ravenous that I almost licked the plate clean. Smiling with satisfaction over my appetite, Doc took the empty plate and fork away. I swung my legs onto the cot, reclining on my right elbow to take the strain off my injury. Doc returned a moment later, drying his hands on a small towel.

“I’d like to take another look at those stitches, Matt.”

“I just got comfortable,” I grumbled. Begrudgingly, I re-positioned myself so that I was lying flat on my back. Doc brought a chair over, so he could sit while he examined me.

“Does this hurt?” Doc asked as he gently pressed my flesh on either side of the bullet wound.

I flinched. “A little. The pain isn’t as sharp as it was.”

“I’m sure the sharper pain is from your rib, and not the bullet wound,” Doc explained. “I’ll leave those stitches in for another day or two.”

“Does that mean I’ll be able to go back to work?” I asked hopefully.

Doc glowered crossly at me. “No! It most certainly does not!” He placed a hand firmly on my shoulder. “Matt, you need to listen to me, and listen good. I know you’re starting to feel better, but your rib cartilage is going to take at least six weeks to heal; at worst, it could be as long as six months. If you don’t stop attempting to get up, by thunder, I’ll have to tie you down to that cot!”

Devastated, I exhaled heavily. I’d hoped that once the stitches were removed, I’d be able to return to work. I needed to arrest Dan Grat as soon as possible, before he killed anyone else. The man was a menace to society. But deep down, I knew that Doc was right. I stared out of the window at the sky and rooftops for a moment.

“Sorry, Doc,” I whispered, turning my gaze back towards the older man.

Doc swiped a hand over his mustache, and he grunted. “Can’t say I blame you for getting restless. A man of action like you… It must be hard having to lie still for so long. I just care about you, Matt. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but you’re like the son I never had…”

I smiled slightly, warmed by the kindness of Doc’s words. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re like a father to me too.”

Doc kindly fluffed up the pillows for me. “Get some more sleep now, Matt.”

“I’m not tired.”

Too late, I realized that was the wrong thing to say. Doc went straight over to his medicine cabinet. I thought he was going to give me some more laudanum, but instead he measured out a dose of white powder, which he stirred into a glass of water. The powder made the water cloudy, but I had no doubt that it was some kind of sedative to induce me to sleep. Doc brought the glass over to me.

“Drink that, and don’t argue,” Doc ordered.

“You know it’s unnatural to sleep during the day,” I retorted as I took the glass.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Reluctantly, I drained the glass. The medicine was initially bitter, but it had a sweet aftertaste. Doc took the empty glass from me, and he returned to his desk.

Within minutes, I began to feel drowsy. I settled down on my left side, facing the wall, to sleep. Just as I’d settled into that sweet zone between sleep and wakefulness, I sensed Doc coming over to me. He leaned over, feeling my outstretched left wrist for my pulse. That was the last thing I was aware of before the medicine pulled me into a deep sleep.

***

Instead of waking naturally, I found myself being shaken awake about four hours later. Annoyed, I let out a loud groan in protest.

“That’s better.” Doc’s voice penetrated through the fog of sleep that lay heavily around me. “Time to wake up, Matt. It’s time you started getting back into a regular routine, so we’ll make a start now with dinner.”

“Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?” I muttered crossly as I rolled over onto my back. It was then that I inhaled the delicious aroma of Doc’s stew. My stomach rumbled hungrily. “On second thoughts, maybe it can’t.”

Doc chuckled. “Yes, it was a shame to wake you. You looked so peaceful. But now that you’re improving, we need to get you back into a regular sleep cycle. It’ll help aid your recovery.”

Sitting up, I glanced around. It was dark now, and Doc had several lamps lit in the room. Doc ladled some of his stew from the pot on the stove onto a plate, which he handed to me along with a fork. I began eating immediately. Doc served himself a portion of the stew, before sitting down at his desk to eat.

“This is really good, Doc,” I commented after a few mouthfuls. “At least it’s not bland.”

“Well, you’re improving faster than I expected, so you deserve a little reward. Fancy a game of checkers after dinner?”

“Sure, if you have nothing else to do.”

Doc glanced at me, smiling slightly. “Even if I did, I’d play a game with you anyway. I expect you’re going to be sleeping a lot less during the day from now on. I also know that you’re going to become bored, Matt, and that’ll only get worse over the next few days as you start to get your strength back. I suppose I’d better find things to keep you amused...”

“There’s a book I started reading a few weeks ago,” I said. “It’s in my desk. Guess I could read that.”

Doc nodded, silently approving. “That might keep you quiet for a day or two. I’ll ask Chester to fetch it next time I see him. I also need to ask him to bring a fresh change of clothes and underwear for you.”

“Yes, I could do with a proper bath and a shave. That sponge bath you gave me this morning felt good, but I must still look pretty rough.”

“You don’t look too bad,” Doc reassured me. “I’ve seen worse.”

We finished the rest of our dinner in silence. After Doc had cleared our plates, he brought a small card table over to my cot. We set up the game of checkers and began to play.

Half an hour later, we were still playing our first game when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in! It’s open!” Doc called.

I glanced up as Chester came barreling into the room.

“Evening, Doc. Mister Dillon. I was just passing by, and I saw your light was still on, so I thought I’d come on up and see how you are.”

How he managed to say all of that without pausing for air was beyond me.

“I’m doing much better now, thanks Chester,” I answered.

“Your move, Matt.”

I glanced down at the board to see where Doc had moved his counter. Doc made eye contact with Chester.

“I’m glad you decided to stop by Chester. As you can see, Matt’s a lot more alert and he’s starting to get restless. I need to find things to keep him amused. He mentioned that there’s a book in his desk that he’d like to finish reading.”

Coyly, I rolled my eyes upwards in Doc’s direction without raising my head. I moved one of my counters, stealing one of Doc’s.

“Sure, I can fetch that book for you, Mister Dillon,” Chester agreed. “I is just glad to see you doin’ all right now. You know’d, I was so angry with what that Grat fellow done to you, I wanted to go an’ kill him myself!”

“I hope you don’t, Chester…” My voice carried a stern warning tone that made Chester swallow nervously. “I’ll deal with Dan Grat once I’m better.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Matt!” Doc growled. He dropped one of his counters on the board, stealing two of mine. “I’ve already pulled one bullet out of you and by thunder, I’m not anxious to do it again!”

Setting my jaw grimly, I moved one of my counters over one square.

“Well, I reckon I’d better get going now,” Chester muttered awkwardly. “You look tired, Mister Dillon… Besides, I don’t think that game’s gonna last much longer.”

“Oh, won’t it?” Doc grumbled. He glanced down at the board before moving one of his counters.

“You sure that’s the move you want to make?” I asked, doing my best not to smirk.

“It’s too late for you to change your mind now, Doc,” Chester pointed out. “You’ve already taken your fingers off.”

Doc glared indignantly up at Chester. Grinning, I began bouncing one of my king counters over Doc’s counters, collecting most of them in a single move. Chester laughed as Doc stared down at the board, completely lost for words.

“You were saying, Doc?” I teased, smirking boyishly.

Frustrated, Doc gave the board a shove, knocking some of the counters onto the floor with a loud clutter.

“Well, it’s time for you to go to bed anyway,” Doc growled, resigning himself to the loss. “I’ll get you some laudanum, so you can sleep. Chester’s right, for once. You do look tired.”

Doc stood up to fetch the medicine for me. Chester was just opening the door to leave when Doc stopped him.

“Say, Chester?”

“Yes, Doc?”

“When you bring that book, would you mind also bringing a fresh change of clothes and underwear for Matt?”

“All right, Doc,” Chester agreed.

“Just a minute, Chester,” I called, making him pause in the doorway a second time. “Doc said that a herd boss was shot earlier today. He also said that you’d know what happened.”

“Never you mind about that now, Matt,” Doc quickly interjected. He handed over a glass containing the dose of laudanum. “Just get that down you. Goodnight, Chester.”

“ ‘Night, Doc. Mister Dillon.”

Doc closed the door behind Chester. He then returned to my side to watch me swallow the laudanum to ensure I took the whole dose. I hesitated for a moment before reluctantly doing so, albeit with a grimace. Doc took the empty glass from my hand. With a weary sigh, I lay down on the cot, settling down to allow myself to succumb to yet another drug-induced sleep.

***

The fragrant scent of bacon, eggs and toast cooking roused me early the following morning. I carefully propped myself up onto my elbows, turning my head to watch as Doc finished preparing his breakfast. The pain radiating from my chest had lessened to little more than a dull ache.

“Got any of that for me?” I asked.

Startled, Doc almost dropped the frying pan on the floor. “For goodness sake, Matt! I didn’t hear you wake up.”

I chuckled softly, doing my best not to aggravate my rib. Unfortunately, I did, and a stab of pain caused me to wince sharply. Doc transferred his breakfast onto a plate, which he placed down on his desk before he came over to me. He pressed a hand against my forehead, checking for fever. He then felt my right wrist for my pulse.

“How are you feeling today?”

“A lot better,” I answered honestly. “And hungry.”

Doc patted my shoulder sympathetically. “I’ll cook up some oatmeal for you. See if you can stomach that today.”

While Doc was cooking the oatmeal, I tentatively adjusted the pillows so I could sit up comfortably, reclining against the wall.

“Now,” Doc said as he carried a bowl and a spoon over to me. “Try and eat as much of that as you can. If it’s good enough for horses, it’s certainly good enough for you!”

“You really need to work on your bedside manner,” I retorted as I accepted the bowl and spoon.

“Take care. It’ll be hot,” Doc warned.

“Which is more than can be said for your own breakfast.”

Pouting at the realization that I was right, Doc sat down at his desk to eat his now-cold bacon and eggs. I blew on a spoonful of the oatmeal before cautiously tasting it. Just like the scrambled eggs I’d had the day before, the oatmeal was bland and unappetizing. Given how hungry I was though, I simply didn’t care.

We ate our breakfast in silence. From where I sat, I could see Doc browsing through a medical journal on his desk. After a few more mouthfuls, I dropped the spoon back into the near-empty bowl.

“Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve had enough.”

Tearing himself away from the journal, Doc came over. He smiled when he saw that I’d eaten most of the oatmeal.

“You did better than I thought you would, considering it was bland,” Doc commented as he took the bowl and spoon from me. “You must’ve been hungry. It’ll do you good at any rate.”

I was about to reply when two gunshots rang out in the near distance. Instinctively, I went to stand up, but Doc was faster. He placed the bowl down on the examination table behind him before quickly seizing me by the shoulders before I could do more than sit up straight.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Doc growled dangerously.

“Doc, I…” I began, but then I let out a resigned sigh. “Nowhere…”

“Good.” Doc hurried over to his desk and he gathered up his medical bag. “Make sure you stay right there. You know what I’ll do to you if you don’t. I’ll be back soon.”

Doc had just placed a hand on the doorknob to open it the door, when it was flung open, almost knocking Doc over backwards. Chester burst into the room, panting heavily.

“Doc! You need to hurry over to the Long Branch! Frank Scarth’s been shot!”

Doc was already pushing his way past Chester. Chester cast an anxious glance in my direction before he closed the door and hurried down the stairs after Doc. I took hold of the windowsill, using it as an aid to help pull myself up into a sitting position. I leaned out of the window a little, my gaze following Doc and Chester as they hurried down Front Street towards the Long Branch Saloon.

With nothing else to do, I stood up slowly. Since I was only wearing my long johns, there was no way I could go outside. It was then that I noticed the Doc had left half of his breakfast on his desk. Cold or not, the slices of bacon looked too good to leave alone…

I left enough of Doc’s remaining breakfast on the plate so that, hopefully, he wouldn’t notice that I’d devoured a slice of bacon, half an egg and half of a slice of toast. Exhausted, but with my hunger satisfied, I returned to the cot where I laid down to rest again.

I must’ve drifted off to sleep, because when I opened my eyes, Doc had returned. He was seated at his desk, doing some paperwork. Out of sheer habit, I began to stretch. Immediately, I regretted it. With a pained yelp, I curled up into the foetal position, clutching at my chest while trying to catch my breath. Doc sprang to my side.

“Matt! Are you okay? What happened?”

“Forgot about my injuries when I stretched,” I moaned, wincing sharply.

Doc frowned. “I was hoping I might be able to take those stitches out today. You might have beaten me to it. Move your hands away so I can take a look.”

I shook my head, refusing to do so. Doc swatted at my hands until I reluctantly moved them out of the way. He grunted thoughtfully as he examined the stitches.

“Well, you were fortunate. You didn’t pull them out, but they are ready to be removed. Looks like you’ll probably have a nice little scar there. Maybe that’ll remind you not to get involved in gunfights against men who are faster than you.”

“Can only get faster with practice,” I retorted. That reminded me of something. “How’s Frank?”

“He’s dead,” Doc answered simply.

“Oh. Who shot him?”

“Dan Grat.”

I released a frustrated sigh. “That’s three people he’s killed since he arrived here...”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now. I’ll just fetch my instruments.”

Doc washed his hands thoroughly with carbolic soap. He returned to my side with a small porcelain dish containing three or four different instruments, including a small pair of scissors. He gently washed the area around my stitches with a clean cloth soaked in whiskey. It felt cool, but didn’t sting.

“All right, Matt. I need you to stay as still a possible for me. This might tickle a bit.”

I scoffed disbelievingly. To my surprise, it did tickle when Doc pressed the cold metal instruments against my warm skin. I flinched, but otherwise I managed to remain still while Doc worked.

Doc had only just finished pulling the last of the thread out of me, when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Doc called.

The door swung open and Chester entered carrying a small carpet bag. He paused when he saw that Doc was treating my wound.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Doc,” he began sheepishly. “I can come back later, if you…”

“No, no! It’s fine, Chester,” Doc reassured him. “I was just removing Matt’s stitches.”

Chester placed the carpet bag on the examination table.

“I’ve brought you a change of clothes, Mister Dillon, and that book. I also packed a deck of cards, since Doc said he needed to find things to keep you amused.”

I smiled up at my assistant. “Thanks, Chester. I appreciate that.”

“You can get changed and cleaned up in my back room,” Doc offered. “You can give yourself a proper sponge bath now that I’ve removed the stitches. Just give me a few minutes to get everything set up for you.”

A few minutes later, Chester kindly carried the carpet bag into the back room for me. I followed him, slowly, taking care not to accidentally jar my sore rib. Doc had set up a small metal tub in the middle of the floor for me to stand in while I gave myself the sponge bath. He’d also left a large jug filled with warm, fresh water, a sponge, soap and a couple of towels for me to use.

Once Chester had left the room, closing the door behind him to give me privacy, I removed the long johns I’d been wearing for the past week. They’d need a good wash before I could wear them again.

The sponge bath felt wonderful. I found I couldn’t raise my right arm very high due to the pull the connected muscles made on my injured rib, but I managed well enough. After I’d dried myself, I changed into the clothes Chester had provided for me. Since I knew Doc would still want full access to my chest, I decided to just wear my undershirt on top. I did, however, put on my fresh pair of long johns and trousers. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Chester had thought to put my shaving paraphernalia in the bag. Glancing in the mirror, I knew I couldn’t wait to see a barber to attend to that part of my personal care. At least I could shave without hurting my rib.

When I emerged from the back room, I was pleasantly surprised to find Chester still there. He and Doc were having a chat over coffee.

“Well, Matt, I must say you’re looking a lot better now,” Doc commented, running his eyes over me from head to foot.

“Thanks. I’m feeling a lot better too.”

“In that case, I’ll let you have some coffee.”

“Who made it?” I asked dubiously as Doc poured some into a cup for me.

“I did,” Doc answered. I accepted the cup from him.

“Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to cope with Chester’s coffee until I’m a little stronger.”

“What’d you mean?” Chester spluttered indignantly.

Ignoring him, I sat down on the edge of the cot. Then, I slowly drank a sip, taking care not to burn my tongue.

***

For dinner that evening, Doc cooked up a couple of steaks and some vegetables for us. Afterwards, we played a couple of rounds of checkers again, before turning in. It was the first night since I’d been shot that Doc allowed me to try and fall asleep without the aid of any sedatives. Fortunately, by then I was rather tired, and, with Doc watching me from his desk, I was able to fall asleep within a reasonable time.

I awoke shortly after dawn, as was my usual habit whenever I was well. Aside from my rib, which still complained whenever I moved, I felt much more like myself again. Since Doc was still asleep in the back room, I got up and made good use of the chamber pot. Once I was done, I covered the vessel with an old scrap of cloth that Doc provided for such purpose, and I left the pot where Doc would see it to empty later.

After washing my hands and face at the wash stand, I added a few logs to the pot belly stove and began preparing a fresh pot of coffee. It had almost come to the boil when Doc emerged, fully dressed, but wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Mornin’ Doc,” I greeted him cheerfully.

“Well! Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Doc grumbled when he saw that I’d helped myself to his stash of coffee.

“Thanks, I already have. Coffee?”

“How long have you been awake?” Doc asked, ignoring my offer.

“Long enough.” I poured out two cups of coffee, handing one to Doc. He begrudgingly accepted it.

“Matt…”

“I know, I know. You want me to stay in bed…” Reluctantly, I sat down on the edge of the cot and I drank a sip of my coffee. “I was rather hoping you’d let me sit outside on the steps today.”

Doc scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Matt, I know you better than you think I do. If I give you an inch, you’ll take a mile. So, I’m going to say no.”

I couldn’t hide my frustration and disappointment.

“Matt, I know you’re feeling better, and I’m very glad of it,” Doc continued. “But I’m not going to let you rush your recovery. It’ll only cause you problems later on. Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

After a few minutes of silence, Doc set his half drunk cup of coffee down on his desk. I quickly finished mine when I saw Doc pick up his stethoscope and come towards me. Since I was already sitting up, Doc took the opportunity to listen to my lungs from the back of my chest instead of the front. He’d once explained to me that he could hear a patient’s lungs better from the back, but it wasn’t always possible to do so.

After he’d listened to my lungs and taken my pulse, Doc examined my bullet wound. From what I could see, it looked a lot better now. I was sure the scab would be ready to fall off in a day or two.

“Try not to scratch it,” Doc instructed as he lowered my undershirt. “I’ll cook up some more oatmeal for you for breakfast.”

I tucked my undershirt back into my trousers. I wasn’t terribly keen on having just oatmeal for breakfast again, especially since I was famished, but I also wasn’t keen on arguing with Doc.

Once Doc had prepared my breakfast for me, I ate it slowly. It was hard to eat such a bland meal while watching and smelling him cooking his much more appetizing breakfast of eggs with biscuits and gravy. Sensing that I’d stopped eating, Doc glanced at me.

“Everything all right, Matt?”

“Yeah. Guess I’m just not very hungry today,” I lied. My stomach growled quietly, but I ignored it.

“Well, try and eat it anyway, because that’s all you’re getting,” Doc said as he plated his breakfast. I saw him glance at me with a concerned frown. I knew he’d made a mental note to investigate my sudden apparent lack of appetite later.

Reluctantly, I resumed eating. However, I only managed a few more spoonfuls before I placed the half-eaten bowl of oatmeal on the examination table. With nothing else to do, I adjusting the pillows, and I used the windowsill to pull myself into a reclining position, resting in the corner where the bed met the wall. From that angle, I could watch Doc and look out of the window.

It was a beautiful day outside, much to my annoyance. I desperately wanted to be out there, soaking up the sunlight while doing my job. Before long, I heard someone coming up the stairs. Doc also heard the light footfalls. He stood up, grinning, as he made his way over to the door.

“I think you’re about to have a visitor, Matt… Well, come on in!” Doc said as he opened the door. Kitty strolled gracefully into the room, bringing the fresh scent of lavender with her.

“How is he, Doc?” Kitty asked. She turned to look at me, smiling sweetly.

“Fine,” I said, returning her smile. “Nice of you to stop by.” I didn’t move from my reclining position, but I could feel my heart rate speeding up in Kitty’s presence.

Doc guided Kitty to sit in the chair that was still beside the cot.

“There’s your answer,” Doc told Kitty reassuringly. He began fiddling with his glasses.

“I was going to make you some soup or something,” Kitty said to me. “But I thought I’d come by and see what you wanted first.”

Thinking back to the mostly bland food I’d had since regaining consciousness, and the meager breakfast I’d had, her offer was an appealing one. “I was hoping somebody’d come by and save me from Doc’s cooking.”

Doc clearly took offense to that. I could see it in his face.

“Doc’s cooking has kept you alive for more than a week,” he retorted gruffly. He looked down at Kitty. “It’s killing me, but it’s kept him alive.”

Kitty chuckled. “He’s beginning to look human. How much longer will he be in bed?”

“Oh, about five days…”

I glowered at Doc. He knew how desperate I was to get out from under his care as soon as possible. “Tomorrow’ll do it.”

Doc grunted indignantly as he turned his attention to tidying up his office a little. I had a feeling he’d have some strong words to say to me about that after Kitty had gone.

“Keep resting, Matt,” Kitty instructed warningly. “You shouldn’t dare go out until Doc says.”

I decided to change the subject. “I hear Grat killed Frank Scarth.”

Kitty bowed her head. “Yes, he slapped him, and then...shot him down. Like that.”

“Slapped him?” I asked, surprised. “Grat was that close to him?”

“As close as I am to you.”

“And that herd boss? The one who came into town to see if his outfit should stay here?”

Kitty nodded solemnly. “Same thing. He walked up to him, pushed him in the chest to make him draw, and then killed him when he did.”

In that moment, I realized Dan Grat’s weakness. He was fast on the draw because he always enticed his victims to come in closer to him, and therefore didn’t need to aim. If I could get him to draw from a distance, he’d stand almost no chance of gunning me down again.

“Kitty, get outta here. Go away,” I ordered. I didn’t want her to know what I was planning to do now that I was almost better.

“Why?” Kitty pressed.

“I gotta get up. I gotta start walking around…” I gripped the windowsill, using it as an aid to help me sit up.

Doc, hearing me, hurried back over. “Now, just you wait a minute.”

“Matt, you’re not thinking of facing Dan Grat again?” Kitty admonished.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle him,” Doc reassured her. He walked around to the headboard of the cot, glaring sternly down at me. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I slapped my thigh with frustration before slumping back down onto the pillows, my rib aching. Kitty stood up to leave.

“Matt, I never thought I’d have to say this to you, but you’re a dead man if you try him again. He’s faster than you.”

I frowned as Kitty left the room. She didn’t know that I’d figured out Dan Grat’s only weakness. Doc sat down in the chair Kitty had just vacated.

“Well, you heard what she said. And she’s right.”

I gazed determinedly at Doc. “You just get me walking, Doc. That’s all I ask.”

“Where? Up the street so he can see you.”

“I’m gonna walk a mile today, two tomorrow and three the next day,” I decided, formulating my own recovery plan. “By the end of the week, I’ll be off your hands.” I sat up again, ignoring my protesting rib. “Either you walk with me or you don’t.”

And with that said, I stood up, grimacing the whole time. I cautiously rubbed my right-hand side with my left hand to help ease the pain. Doc also stood up.

“All right,” Doc said in defeat. He picked up my shirt that had been hanging over the back of the chair. “Somebody’s gotta walk with you. Might as well be me.”

Doc kindly helped me put on the shirt. He then aided me in putting on my vest and boots. I was glad he’d finally realized that he couldn’t keep me cooped up inside his office a moment longer. Doc had kept my badge on his desk during my recovery, so I collected it and pinned it to my shirt over my heart. Doc rolled his eyes before opening the door.

Had I been a little boy, I’d have bolted out of Doc’s office and slid down the stairs on the handrail. However, as I was a grown man and, given my injured rib, I eased myself slowly down the stairs, keeping hold of the handrail just in case. Doc followed closely behind me. I suspected he was hoping that I’d be in so much pain from going down the stairs that I’d give up the notion of going for a walk.

Chester joined us as we reached the bottom of the stairs. He seemed very surprised and happy to see me up and about at last.

“I was just on my way to see you, Mister Dillon,” Chester explained. “I sure is glad to see you back on your feet. Did Doc say you could go back to work?”

“No, and he’s not going to either,” Doc retorted, answering on my behalf. “Not until the end of the week, at least.”

“We’re just going for a walk,” I explained to Chester, ignoring Doc’s grumbling.

Doc grunted his disapproval. “Stubborn as a mule he is, and just as ornery when he doesn’t get his own way. Come along, Chester. You can help me carry him back once he realizes that he’s not ready to be out of bed yet.”

I smirked as I finally understood why Doc had been so compliant about letting me go for a walk. This was going to be a battle of wills. He’d decided to let me push myself until I gave up and admitted defeat. However, he didn’t know me as well as he thought he did. I winked at Chester, but he didn’t seem to notice.

We began our walk by heading down Front Street. I walked tall and straight, due mainly to habit and the training I’d undergone while serving in the Union Army. Doc and Chester walked on either side of me, as if to make themselves ready to catch me if I collapsed.

As we approached the Long Branch Saloon, I saw a familiar face staring at me. I bristled. It was Dan Grat. Seeing me, Grat stepped into the street, stopping in front of me. I glowered coldly down at him.

“Where’s your gun, Marshal?” Grat taunted. “Leave it at home, or you just remembering that I don’t shoot unarmed men?”

I continued to glower at the despicable excuse for a human being. Beside me, Doc tensed, subtly bracing himself to interfere if we started a verbal stoush. Wisely, I bit the tip of my tongue while maintaining my glare. Although I was desperate to fight him again, I knew I wasn’t ready to face him just yet. In a few days perhaps, but not now.

“I hope you get well real soon, Marshal,” Grat said, shrinking a little beneath my glare. “You and me, we shouldn’t have no more trouble.”

That’s what you think , I thought bitterly as Doc, Chester and I walked around Grat and continued on our way.

“Well I don’t want anything except to be left alone,” Grat called out to us. “Do whatever I feel like doing.”

“Filthy pig!” Chester muttered crossly once we were out of earshot of Grat.

Realizing I’d need all my energy for the walk, I continued to hold my tongue. With renewed determination, I narrowed my eyes on the road ahead, leading out of town. Doc and Chester had to increase their pace just to keep up with me.

We walked for just over a quarter of a mile outside of Dodge. By then, I was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. When I paused for a moment to catch my breath, Doc took hold of my right wrist. He looked at his pocket watch while feeling my pulse. I rubbed my injured rib with my left hand. It was aching terribly now, but I sure wasn’t about to admit that aloud .

Doc looked up at me and shook his head. He didn’t need to say anything. His expression told me that I’d walked far enough for my first day out. Reluctantly, I turned around and began to head back towards town along with Doc and Chester.

“I could’ve kept going a little longer,” I panted.

“No Matt,” Doc told me firmly. “Your pulse is racing like you’ve just run a marathon, not walked a quarter mile. You’ll be thoroughly exhausted by the time we get back.”

He wasn’t wrong. I could scarcely keep up with Chester by the time we arrived back in Dodge. It was an effort just to put one foot in front of the other. Fortunately, Dan Grat was nowhere to be seen by the time we made our way back down Front Street. I’d have hated for him to see me at my weakest.

Climbing the stairs to Doc’s office was like climbing a mountain. I practically had to drag myself up with the aid of the railing. Once inside the office, I collapsed onto the cot with a weary sigh. Doc promptly took my pulse again. He couldn’t resist smirking down at me. I could see that he desperately wanted to say ‘I-told-you-so’, but for some reason he refrained from doing so. Instead, he poured me a fresh glass of cold water.

“I’ll say this for you, Matt. You’re the most tenacious man I’ve ever known. Might prove to be your downfall one of these days.”

I was too exhausted to think of a suitable reply, so instead, I gratefully accepted the proffered glass of water.

“Well, if nothing else, I think you’ll sleep well tonight,” Doc muttered as I gulped down the water. Despite myself, I had to agree with him.

“We’ll do that again tomorrow,” I decided as I handed the empty glass back to him.

Doc frowned. “I’ll be the judge of that. With any luck, you’ll be too stoved up to move from that bed by morning.”

“We’ll see about that! Now, I’m starving. What’s for lunch? And if you say oatmeal, I’m heading straight to Demonicos!”

Chapter Text

Nobody in his right mind takes pleasure in killing a man. I sure don’t. It always leaves me feeling hollow and wishing I could’ve done something differently. Fortunately, t here is an alternative method that lawmen can use to subdue a man . It’s called buffaloing. It has its risk s however, because, instead of momentarily stunning a man, it could kill him just as easily as pulling the trigger. Now, I’ve buffaloed many men before in the line of duty. Much as I hate cracking a pistol over a fellow man’s skull, doing so has saved my life many times, and that of others. However, this incident was the first time I’d ever been on the receiving end of a buffaloing. And I can tell you, it wasn’t a pleasant experience…

***

“Stand still. Just stand still.”

“They got here sooner than I expected, Obie.”

“Do you mind moving back into the middle of the barn, Marshal?”

“You able to identify them, Obie?”

“It’s too bad you’re here, Marshal.”

“What?”
“Well, our business was just with Obie. Now that you’re here, we’re forced into business with you.”

“That’ll be the day.”

“You know what we mean. No matter how we get along with Obie, we can’t very well leave you around to tell about it. Now, can we?”

“We tried to make it easy for you, Obie. You could’ve told a pretty girl like Ella.”

***

I don’t remember being hit over the head with Quade’s pistol. All I know is that, one minute, I was standing and talking to Quade, trying to calm the situation, and the next, I was lying on the straw-covered floor in the barn with a splitting headache. I groaned softly as I blinked open my eyes.

“He doesn’t have anything you want,” I heard Ella Mills telling Quade earnestly. “He’s broke! He’s been good to me. Better than you have. Don’t do this…”

Groggily, I rolled over and sat up. Through my blurred vision, I could see that Quade had tossed my pistol onto the straw beside me. However, before I could retrieve it, I heard Quade cock his pistol.

“Marshal!” Ella cried out in warning.

I fumbled for my pistol. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ella move, pulling the barrel of Quade’s gun away from me and towards herself. He fired, blowing a hole straight through her heart. As she fell to the ground, I snatched up my pistol, leapt to my feet and fired at Quade in one swift movement . Fortunately, Quade was standing so close to me that I didn’t need to worry about aiming. I’m sure I’d have missed hitting him otherwise. As it was, my bullet went straight into his own heart. He collapsed to the ground in the barn’s doorway.

Turning, I aimed my pistol at Quade’s partner, Mitch.

“Stay still!” I ordered, blinking to try and clear my blurred vision. “Stiller the better.” If only the world would stop spinning long enough for my eyes to focus. Fortunately, Mitch had more sense than Quade had. He froze. He didn’t even dare flinch.

Hearing Quade move, I glanced to my right, ready to shoot him again. To my relief, the movement was just from his dead body twitching and settling. Now that I had the situation back under control, Chester disarmed Mitch. I could feel a trail of warm, sticky blood seeping down the right side of my neck, but I decided to ignore it for now. Showing any weakness while in a situation like this could be detrimental, not just to myself, but to everyone else. There’d be plenty of time for me to nurse my grievances later.

Dazed, Obie removed the rope from around his neck. Moving slowly, he sank onto the ground alongside his wife.

“She’s dead, Marshal,” Obie stated. He was clearly grief-stricken. “You suppose she did what she did for me? She was so pretty. Why couldn’t she have let them tighten that rope another inch? I’d have told ‘em.”

“Told ‘em what, Obie?” I asked gently. My vision had cleared slightly, allowing me to focus a little better.

“About my gold money.”

I was confused, and not just because of the blow to my head. “Your money?”

“In the rain barrel,” Obie confessed. “Outside the kitchen. A whole big shuck full. Double eagles. More than anybody ever thought I had.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. So, he did have all that gold money after all! It was quite a revelation.

“Well, she wouldn’t have stayed around much after she’d used it up. I wouldn’t have blamed her… She was so pretty… The gold money wasn’t worth it… Never is, I guess… Sh...She was so doggone pretty…”

Distraught, Obie slowly rose to his feet. I swayed a little as my vision blurred over again. Chester motioned for Mitch to follow Obie out of the barn. After retrieving my hat from the floor, I followed them. Now that my adrenaline rush was fading, the pain in my head increased. I moved cautiously to try and avoid passing out.

“Obie, go inside the house and stay there,” I ordered. I glanced back over my shoulder at Quade’s body. “I’ll send someone out here to take care of the bodies in the morning.”

Nodding despondently, Obie shuffled towards his house. Chester already had Mitch mounted and was just tying his hands to the saddle horn to prevent him escaping. I made my way slowly over to Buck, holstering my pistol as I walked. As I mounted, I let out an audible groan when my head exploded in pain. I had to bite my lower lip to prevent myself from passing out. Once I was settled in the saddle, I rested my head in my left hand, with my elbow perched on the horn for support.

“Are you all right, Mister Dillon?” Chester asked as he rode over, leading our mounted prisoner.

I nodded slightly , not daring to speak. In the moonlight, Chester noticed the blood on my head and neck.

“You know, you should probably go an’ see Doc when we get back to Dodge.”

“I intend to, Chester,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Let’s go.”

I barely remember anything from that ride back to Dodge. Fortunately, Buck was able to find his way in the dark, so I didn’t need to do much except remain seated. I even closed my eyes for a few minutes at a time to rest them.

I wasn’t sure what time we arrived back in Dodge, but judging from the position of the moon, it was sometime after midnight. Most of the saloon’s had closed for the night, and those that weren’t were in the process of doing so.

Leaving Chester to attend to our horses and the prisoner, I made my way towards Doc’s office. Fortunately, his lights were on, indicating that he was still awake. However, the stairs to his office looked steeper and higher than usual. Wearily, I began to climb them. About halfway up, the toe of my left boot caught on the edge of one of the steps, tripping me. As I fell, I scrambled to grab hold of the handrail, to prevent myself from falling back down the stairs I’d already climbed. Annoyed with myself, I swore under my breath.

The noise from my stumble was loud enough to catch Doc’s attention. Before I could regain my footing, the office door flew open, and Doc appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Matt! What on earth…? What happened to you?”

“Got buffaloed,” I answered simply as I finally managed to get my long legs and spurs untangled. With the aid of the handrail and the step in front of me, I pulled myself to my feet and made my way up the rest of the stairs. Doc stood back as I entered his office. I placed my hat on the coat rack while making my way past it.

Without being invited, I sat down on Doc’s examination table. He closed the door before turning his attention to me.

“Looks like whoever did it clobbered you good,” Doc remarked as he put on his glasses. He gently took hold of my chin, turning my head so he could examine my wound. “How’s your vision?”

“Blurry.”

“Well, that sure doesn’t surprise me. How long ago did it happen?”

“Not sure. Probably about an hour? Maybe an hour and a half…?”

Reaching up, I tentatively rubbed the back of my aching head. Most of the blood had dried, but some fresh blood smeared onto my hand. Doc went over to the washstand to wash his hands thoroughly.

“Were you knocked out?”

“Briefly. Couldn’t have been more than a minute.”

“I don’t need to ask if you have a headache.” Doc began drying his hands. “You may as well lie down there while I clean the wound. If you’re going to pass out again, I’d rather you did it while lying down.”

I didn’t need a second invitation. I was exhausted, and trying to focus on everything made me feel dizzy and nauseous. With a weary sigh, I lay down on my left-hand side, settling my head on the pillow. I listened as Doc filled a basin with water. After a moment, he began to gently wash the dried blood off my head and neck.

“Will I need stitches?” I asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Doc answered. “Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. The actual cut doesn’t look very big. Maybe half an inch at most. I could put one stitch in it, but I reckon it should heal on its own without it.”

I whimpered pitifully. Doc had almost finished cleaning up the blood when Chester knocked and entered the office.

“Mister Dillon? I got Mitch all locked up, so I thought I’d come and see how you are.”

“Doc can tell you better than I can.”

“I think he’ll live this time, Chester,” Doc reassured him. “It’s not as bad as it looks, although he does have a pretty significant concussion.”

Doc touched a tender spot with his cloth, making me wince. He took a closer look.

“I’m afraid your head’s quite badly bruised too, Matt.”

He tossed the blood-soaked towel into an empty basin. I listened as Doc moved around his office. From a bottle, he poured a liquid onto a clean cloth .

“This might sting a little, Matt, but I need to sterilize that wound,” Doc explained.

He placed the damp cloth over the wound. From the smell, I knew he was using whiskey to clean it. The stinging began almost immediately. I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes tightly. I heard Chester hiss in sympathy.

“There now,” Doc soothed as he removed the cloth a moment later. “At least with the amount of hair you have, nobody will notice. Looks like it’s stopped bleeding now too. I’ll get a bandage.”

“I don’t need that,” I retorted as I opened my eyes. Cautiously, I sat up.

“Matt…” Doc said warningly. “I want you to stay here tonight, so I can keep an eye on you.”

“I’ll be all right, Doc.” I hopped down from the examination table. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have done that, because the room immediately began spinning wildly.

“Matt!”

I felt my legs give way as if they were jelly, and I collapsed. To my surprise, I landed against something soft. Dazed, I looked up to see that Doc had only just managed to catch me.

“You’ll be all right, huh? Like hell you are!” Doc growled. “You’re just lucky I was able to catch you this time! Chester, give me a hand with him, will you? He weighs half a ton!”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

With Chester’s help, Doc guided me over to the cot. I sat down on the edge of the mattress, burying my aching head in my hands.

“Face it, Matt. You’re in no condition to go anywhere tonight! Now, do what I tell you and lie down before you fall down!”

I groaned miserably. Whether I liked it or not, I’d be spending the night in Doc’s care. My head was pounding relentlessly and my vision was so blurred that it was hardly worth keeping my eyes open.

“How long has it been since he was knocked out, Chester?” Doc asked.

“Oh, well over an hour.”

“Might wait a little longer before I let him sleep, just to be safe,” Doc decided. “Can’t mess around with concussions. Here, help me get his boots and gun belt off him.”

I unbuckled my gun belt and hand ed it to Chester, followed by my vest. Doc kindly removed my boots for me .

“I’ll stay just for tonight, Doc,” I muttered as I begrudgingly laid down prostrate on the cot.

“You’ll stay for as long as I say!” Doc snapped. “You’re no good to yourself or anyone else while you’re in this condition!”

I groaned again while rubbing my temples. “Don’t shout! Hurts…”

With a shake of his head, Doc turned his attention to Chester.

“Go hide that gun in his office. Were it within my powers, I’d take that wretched badge off him too! Might slow him down a little if I did...”

“Yes, Doc,” Chester mumbled as he left the office.

Deep down, I knew I wasn’t well enough to do anything else that night. I could only hope that, by morning, I’d be feeling a lot better.

“Don’t go to sleep on me yet, Matt,” Doc instructed. “Sit up and let me bandage that thick skull of yours. Can’t have you bleeding all over the place.”

With a reluctant gro a n, I pushed myself back up, propping myself on my elbows. Doc pressed a gauze pad over my wound, and he began to secure it in place by wrapping a bandage around my head.

“Why don’t you tell how you ended up being buffaloed?” Doc asked. “You don’t usually drop your guard long enough for someone to get close enough to clobber you.”

I grimaced as Doc tightened the bandage, making my headache worse. In truth, I was rather ashamed of myself. A woman had died because I’d been foolish enough to let myself be buffaloed so easily. Quade had been fast, but had I been more alert and not so cocky , I could’ve blocked him.

“Matt?” Doc prompted.

I shook my head slightly, doing my best not to aggravate the pain within. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Doc’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he wisely let the subject drop. He finished tying the bandage and helped ease me back down onto the pillow. Doc perched himself on the edge of the cot, so he could examine my eyes again.

“You want anything for that headache?”

“Not sure…” I mumbled.

“Well, I’ll get you something anyway… Might help.”

I listened as Doc went over to his medicine cabinet. But then, I began to hear a loud ringing sound in my head. I groaned, which brought him back to my side in an instant.

“Matt?”

“My ears are ringing…”

“It’s called tinnitus,” Doc gently explained. “It’s common with head injuries like yours. Is there anything else bothering you?”

I was tempted to say, ‘only you’, but I wisely decided against it. After all, it’s foolish to bite the hand that feeds you. When I didn’t answer, Doc returned to preparing the headache medicine for me. After a moment, to my relief, the tinnitus faded.

“Here you are, Matt.”

Opening my eyes, I saw Doc standing over me, holding a glass of water and something in his other hand. My vision was too blurry for me to make out what.

“What is it?”

“Just a couple of pills. They’ll help ease the headache.”

I reached out to take the pills from his hand, but with my vision so blurred, my hand completely missed Doc’s by a good couple of inches. Frowning, Doc sat down on the edge of the cot.

“Here, let me help. Open your mouth.”

I reluctantly did so. Doc popped the pills onto my tongue. He then held the glass of water up to my lips. I took a mouthful of water, washing the two pills down in a single gulp. Doc patted my shoulder sympathetically while I settled my aching head back down on the pillow.

“Get some sleep now, Matt. Hopefully, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah…”

With a weary sigh, I closed my eyes, happy to finally get some much-needed sleep.

***

I slept soundly until well after dawn the next morning. Doc was already up and about by the time I stirred and opened my eyes.

“It’s about time you woke up,” Doc said as he came over to me. “It’s gone eight. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Head still aches a bit…”

Doc smiled sympathetically. “It will for another day or two. Here, l et me take that bandage off , so I can examine the wound.”

I sat up slowly, blinking as I did. My vision had cleared, but I still felt a little groggy. Doc began to gently unwrap the bandage. Once he’d removed it and the gauze pad, he put his glasses on and visually examined the cut.

“Well, that looks like it’s healing nicely. Can’t see any signs of infection… Look straight at me…”

I did so, and Doc studied my eyes for a moment.

“You’re still slightly concussed. You should stay up here and rest for at least another day.”

“Can’t do that, Doc. Got too much work to do.” I began pulling on my boots.

With a frustrated sigh, Doc gather ed up the length of bandage. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to argue with me.

“I had breakfast with Chester this morning.”

“That must’ve been painful,” I quipped. Doc decided to ignore me.

“Kitty was there too. Anyway, Chester filled me in on what happened to you last night.”

I dropped my gaze. “He shouldn’t have done that. Doc, listen… I’m not proud of what took place last night.”

Doc went over to his desk, so he could sit down. He removed his glasses. “At least I now understand why you didn’t want to talk about it. What I guess I’m trying to say is, you shouldn’t blame yourself for Ella’s decisions. She stepped in front of that gun knowing Quade would probably kill her.”

“She wouldn’t have been put in that position if I’d been prepared for Quade’s blow.”

Doc gave an exasperated sigh. He rubbed his temples thoughtfully. “Matt... If I had a dollar for every time I played the ‘woulda, coulda, shoulda game’ after losing a patient, I’d have been able to retire years ago. It’s something I had to learn on my own, but at least you have me to teach it to you now. What’s done is done. You can’t change what happened this time, but what you can do is learn from it so you don’t make the same mistake next time. Your job is just as unpredictable as mine is, and by golly I’ve made some terrible mistakes that’s cost someone their life. But instead of hating myself for letting it happen, I’ve learned to accept it as a lesson to do my job better next time. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Doc was right. I couldn’t hold myself responsible for other people’s decisions; only my own. I made a mistake last night, letting myself get buffaloed so easily. It was Dan Grat all over again. I’d made a mistake the first time I’d faced him, and it had almost killed me, but I’d quickly lea r ned not to repeat that same mistake. Fortunately, I didn’t, and that was why I was still alive, and he wasn’t.

I slowly rose to my feet and, after gathering up my vest from the end of the cot, I moved tentative ly towards Doc. “Thank you for saying that, Doc. I know I’m far from perfect, even though I wanna be.”

“We’re all human, Matt. None of us will ever be perfect. Besides, you’re still reasonably new to this job. You’re bound to make a mistake here or there. Nobody will hold that against you.”

“I sure hope not,” I said as I pulled on my vest. “Anyway, thanks for looking after me, Doc. I’d better get going.”

Doc leapt to his feet. “Now, hold on there! I never said you could go!”

“Doc, I’ve got two bodies that need to be collected from Obie’s place, and then reports to make. Not to mention making legible sense of your autopsy reports. Don’t they teach doctors how to write in medical school, or is doctors’ hieroglyphics taught as a prerequisite subject?”

“Doctors’ hieroglyphics?” Doc spluttered indignantly. He poked a finger straight at me. “Now you see here, you overgrown public servant! My handwriting is perfectly legible for the purposes required of it!”

“Oh yeah?” I stepped over to his desk. Leaning over it, I pointed to a word on Doc’s prescription pad. “Then what does that say?”

“Of all the insolent…!” Glancing down at the pad, Doc’s face screwed up in confusion as he struggled to read his own handwriting. He put his glasses back on. “Why, it simply says ‘Croton oil’!”

“You sure? Looks more like ‘Castor oil’ to me…”

“Well, whatever it is, I ought to give you a dose of it for speaking to me like that!”

I scoffed as I collected my hat from the coat rack where I’d left it the night before. “That’ll be the day! I’ll see you later, Doc.”

I hurried out of Doc’s office, putting on my hat as I went. I was halfway down the stairs before Doc snapped out of his conniption and bolted after me.

“Doggone-it! You’d better get yourself back up here right now, Mister Marshal!” Doc shouted from the top of the stairs. “I haven’t finished with you yet!”

Smirking, I ignored him as I walked quickly down Front Street. Fortunately, Doc decided not to follow me. It would have caused an embarrassing scene for both of us. However, I knew he’d catch up with me later and give me an earful. Or rather, knowing Doc as well as I did, two earfuls.

A few minutes later, I entered my office. Chester was in there, fighting with the stove as usual. I hung my hat on the peg.

“What’d that stove do to you this time?” I asked teasingly.

Chester jumped. “Oh, Mister Dillon! I-I d-didn’t hear you come in. Should you be here? Doc told me just half an hour ago that he wanted you to stay in bed a little longer.”

“Ah, Chester, you know Doc,” I said as I made my way over to my desk. “He makes more fuss than is necessary. I expect to pay for tricking him into letting me go though… Speaking of pay-back, how’s our prisoner this morning?”

“Oh, he’s just fine, Mister Dillon,” Chester reassured me. “I’ve already fed him and now he’s just lying there, staring up at the ceiling an’ counting the knotholes…”

I chuckled at Chester’s storytelling. Seeing a small pile of unopened mail on my desk, I picked up the envelopes and began sorting through them. Chester resumed trying to push an over-sized piece of wood through the obviously-too-small stove door. I glanc ed at him, frowning.

“Chester?” When he didn’t answer, I raised my voice. “Chester!”

“Yes, Mister Dillon?” Chester panted.

I canted my head towards the backdoor. “Take it outside and chop it up if it’s too big! My head’s still pounding from last night. I don’t need to hear that racket as well!”

“Oh, yes, of course, Mister Dillon…” Chester muttered sheepishly. “I-I was just thinking of doin’ that…”

“And while you out there, you might as well chop up the rest of that log you were going to do the other day as well.”

Chester began to head towards the backdoor with the piece of wood in his hand.

“Oh, Chester?”

“Yes, Mister Dillon?”

“I’m going to see Mister Anderson. Need to get those bodies collected from Obie Tater’s place as soon as possible so Doc can conduct the autopsies.”

“There’s no need for you to do that, Mister Dillon. I spoke to Mister Anderson before breakfast. He headed out there with his wagon over an hour ago.”

“That means he shouldn’t be too far away then,” I mused. I glanced up at my assistant. “Thanks for organizing that, Chester. In that case, I guess I’d better go have some breakfast. I’ll be over at Delmonico’s if you need me.”

“All right then, Mister Dillon.”

I was halfway to Delmonico’s when I saw the undertaker’s wagon arriving. I followed the wagon around to the back of the shop. The undertaker, old Bob Anderson, was just climbing down from the wagon when I arrived.

“Marshal,” Bob greeted me.

“Bob. I understand that Chester sent you out to Obie Tater’s place to collect the bodies?”

“Yes, he sure did. But there was only one. Obie’s already buried his wife. Said he didn’t want an autopsy done on her.”

“I see…” I went around to the back of the wagon and lifted the tarpaulin to see for myself. Sure enough, there was only one body. “Well, I can’t say I blame him for doing that.”

“Can’t blame who for doing what, Matt?” Doc asked from behind me as he wandered over to join us. Startled, I dropped the edge of the tarpaulin.

“Bob tells me that Obie’s already buried Ella,” I answered. “Looks like you only have one autopsy to perform now.”

Doc grunted indifferently. “Well, if this is the one that you shot, it shouldn’t take me long anyways. You nearly always shoot them cleanly. All right, Bob. Let’s get him unloaded, so I can get started.”

Leaving the undertaker’s yard, I resumed my journey to Delmonico’s. I paused in the doorway to nurse my head for a moment. Doc was right about one thing at least. My head was going to be quite sore for a few more days.

***

A few hours later, I was seated at my desk in my office, sorting through the latest circulars, when Doc entered. I looked up when he closed the door.

“Matt… I’ve got that autopsy report for you,” he said as he handed it over to me.

“Oh, thanks, Doc.” I glanced at the report. “I’m glad to see that it looks more legible than usual…”

Doc scowled. “That reminds me. You owe me a drink.”

Surprised, I glanced up at him. “I do?”

“Sure you do! In fact, you owe me two drinks! The first is for tricking your way out of my office this morning before I could discharge you, and the second is for insulting me.”

Dropping my gaze, I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right… I knew you’d make me pay for doing that. I suppose you want those drinks now?”

“Only if you’re not too busy trying to decipher my hieroglyphics.”

I tossed the autopsy report into the tray where I kept my unfinished reports . Then I stood up.

“It’ll keep. I’m actually rather thirsty myself. Let’s go.”

“Oh, before we do, Matt… How’s your head feel? You tell me the truth now.”

“It’s been sore, but I haven’t been dizzy.”

Doc nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s good. But I want you to try and get a nap this afternoon. You need it.”

“Sure, Doc,” I agreed, smiling as I collected my hat from its peg. “Anything to keep you off my case for a while.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that!”

Chapter Text

Part of my job as a lawman is to try and reform people who commit minor crimes before they commit a major one that could claim the life or lives of innocent people. Fortunately for me, many of those who are offered assistance to reform are more than willing to do so. They just need a little push in the right direction to set them back on the straight path in life. But sometimes, someone comes along who doesn’t want any help. They think they’re doing okay on their own, and my offer of assistance isn’t going to do any good because they think they’re already too far gone. Unfortunately, I can’t force people to accept my help. I sure wish I could though, especially when I see a lot of my younger self in them. Sadly, some people just can’t be helped…

***

“You trying to tell me that out of all Dodge, Elser had to pick Hander for his sidekick?”

“I am… Hold it!”

“I’m in a hurry, Doc.”

“Drop that kid, Matt. He’s poison driftwood. When it comes to people and gettin’ his way with them, he can see around corners. First Kitty, then you. Even me. Now that Hander.”

“A time and a place made him what he is… Somebody owes him something…”

“We were talking the other night about crossroads?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, now, it’s none of my business how it were in your case, but don’t let it give you a blind spot.”

“You through?”

“Yeah… Except to say, preventative medicine is all right sometimes… But sometimes you’ve gotta use surgery.”

***

“Well, you tried real good, Mister Dillon. I mean… Trying to help him.”

I shook my head slightly. “I was too late to help him, Chester. I was too late from the beginning. I shoulda known that. Take care of him, will ya?”

Leaving Chester and the others to deal with Steve Elser’s body, I turned to face Ben Hander.

“All right, Hander.”

Realizing what I meant, Hander turned and we set off down the street towards my office.

“Marshal?” Hander inquired as we walked. “I thought you said the clerk would be all right. What are you locking me up for?”

“He may wish to press charges, and I’d rather know where you are if he does,” I answered grimly.

Keeping my hand pressed firmly against the bleeding gunshot wound to my left-hand side , I continued escorting my prisoner down the street.

Fortunately for me, Hander cooperated. After I’d locked him up in one of the cells, I took my handkerchief from my pocket, and pressed it against the wound to soak up the blood. With Hander secured, I left my office. The wound ached like a bad burn. Slowly, I made my way down the street to Doc’s office, limping slightly due to the pain.

I took my time climbing those accursed stairs up to Doc’s. The door was closed, so, believing that he might be treating Mr Wilkins, I knocked.

“Come in!” Doc called.

I entered in time to see Doc just securing a bandage around Mr Wilkins’ wounded shoulder. Doc glanced over his shoulder at me. I nodded at Mr Wilkins.

“How is he, Doc?”

“Oh, he’ll be all right in a few days…” Doc frowned when he saw the blood-soaked handkerchief pressed against my side. “Now what in thunder happened to you? Here, let me see that.”

“It’s all right, Doc. Just got grazed by a bullet.”

Doc raised his eyebrows. “Elser?”

I nodded solemnly. “He’s dead.”

Doc swiped his mustache with a sad sigh. “Go wait for me in my back room, Matt. I’ll join you there in a minute, just as soon as I finish up out here with Wilkins.”

“Sure, Doc.”

“Make sure you keep applying pressure to that wound,” Doc instructed as I made my way into his back room.

Doc had a second examination table set up in his back room, so after removing my hat, I sat down on it to wait. Two minutes later, Doc joined me. He set about washing his hands thoroughly at the washstand.

“You killed Elser, didn’t you, Matt?” Doc asked as he dried his hands.

“He didn’t give me much choice, I’m afraid. Especially after he shot me.” I sighed despondently. “Was just too late to help him…”

Doc came over to me. “Well, let’s take a look at that injury …”

I tentatively lowered my handkerchief from the wound again. Through my torn shirt, Doc took a cursory look at the damage.

“We’d better get that shirt off,” Doc decided. “Bit hard to see with it in the way.”

Tentatively, I unbuckled my gun belt and I handed it over to Doc, who placed it on a nearby armchair . Doc then assisted me with removing my vest and shirt.

“All right, Matt, you just lie down there, so I can get a good look,” Doc instructed.

I did so, resting my head on the pillow and tucking my arms underneath it so they’d be out of Doc’s way while he treated me. Doc began examining the wound.

“How bad is it, Doc?” I asked after a moment of silence.

“It probably feels a lot worse than it looks,” Doc reported. “The graze isn’t deep, but it is wide. Too wide for stitches at least. Looks like it’s mostly clotted over now anyway.”

“In other words, there’s not much you can do for me.”

“I never said that. I’ll clean it up and bandage it. Then I want you to rest for a couple of days.”

“Don’t have time for that…”

“Well, you can at least keep it firmly bandaged,” Doc conceded. He stepped over to a cabinet to collect a bottle of iodine. He poured some onto a clean cloth. “And try not to move around too much while it’s healing. Hold still a moment.”

I grimaced and flinched when I felt the burning sting from the antiseptic entering the open wound. Someone knocked on the door to the back room, which was slightly ajar.

“Doc?”

“Yes, Wilkins?” Doc answered without looking up. He continued gently dabbing the iodine into my wound.

“Do you still need me?”

“No, you can go now. Just remember what I told you.”

“I will, Doc, and thank you.”

“Just a moment, Wilkins,” I called.

“Yes, Marshal?”

“I need to know if you want to press charges against Ben Hander?”

Before he could answer, I inhaled sharply when Doc touched a particularly tender spot.

“Sorry, Matt,” Doc apologized. “Just stay still. I’m almost done.”

I couldn’t see Mr Wilkins from where I was lying, but I could sense that he was still standing in the doorway.

“All right, Matt. Looks like I’ve got the bleeding stopped. You can sit up again now,” Doc said as he finished cleaning the wound.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the examination table. I looked to my left so I could make eye contact with Mr Wilkins.

“How about it, Wilkins?” I asked.

Wilkins shrugged indecisively. “What crime could he be charged for?”

“Attempted murder and attempted robbery.”

“Well, I don’t know, Marshal… He didn’t hurt me too badly...”

“Now you listen to me, Wilkins. I can’t keep him locked up in jail without a charge. If I let him go, he could try robbing someone else.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Marshal. I’ve just never been in this situation before. I-I’m not sure what to do...”

“You just tell me if you want to press charges, and I’ll take care of the rest for you.”

“Well… All right then, Marshal. I just don’t think Ben Hander deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison for this.”

“That’d be up to a jury to decide.”

“I still don’t think it’s right…”

Wilkins turned to leave. It was at that moment an idea struck me. I hopped down from the examination table and hurried over to the door, much to Doc’s chagrin.

“Matt!”

“Wilkins?” I called, opening the door wider. “Wait. I have an idea. Now, you may not like it, but it could keep Hander out of prison.”

Wilkins p aused, his hand on the handle of the front door . “ Marshal… I know you have your ways of doing things. You just do what you think is best with Hander. Now I’m going home to rest.”

I leaned against the doorframe, watching as Mr Wilkins left Doc’s office. Behind me, Doc cleared his throat.

“Matt? I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but if you ask me, Hander went too far today when he shot Wilkins. I think he’s as far gone as Elser was, and you’d only be wasting your time with him too. Now you just keep still so I can get this bandage wrapped around you. Here. Hold this.”

Doc pressed a large gauze pad over my wound. I held it firmly in place while he began wrapping a long bandage around my waist.

“You may be right, Doc, but I have to try… Hander seemed very relieved when I told him Wilkins weren’t seriously injured, and he was willing to give himself up.”

“Be that as it may, you and I both know that there are some people we just can’t save, no matter how hard we try.”

Doc pulled the bandage tight, making me grunt.

“Oof! Take it easy there, Doc! I thought that was supposed to be a bandage, not a corset!”

“Oh, stop carrying on so!” Doc admonished. However, I could sense that he was smirking behind my back as he secured the bandage in a tight knot. “Come to think of it, you might be better off with a corset. Might slow you down for a couple of days while that wound heals.”

***

Once Doc had released me from his care, I returned to my office. Chester hadn’t yet returned from burying Elser, so the office was unusually quiet. I went into the jail to see Hander.

“Hander.”

The man had been lying on the cot in his cell, but he sat up when he heard my voice.

“Marshal?”

I stood for a moment, staring at the slightly younger man on the other side of the bars. He dropped his gaze, clearly feeling uncomfortable under my heavy stare.

“Hander, you’re currently facing charges of attempted murder and attempted robbery,” I explained. “That could mean life in prison if you’re convicted.”

“Yeah, and I suppose you’d be glad about that!”

“No… No, I won’t be glad.” I folded my arms across my chest as I leaned back against the brick wall behind me. “Hander, part of my job is to try and reform petty criminals before they commit a more serious crime. I tried to do that with Elser, but he took no heed to my advice and he ended up trying to kill me. Giving someone a push in the right direction in life isn’t hounding them. If I hadn’t had someone push me in the right direction, I’d probably be sitting right where you are now.”

Hander scoffed, but I decided to ignore it.

“I’m going to give you just one more chance, Hander. Should you choose to accept it, then I’ll see that Mister Wilkins drops the charges. But if you don’t… Well, I’m afraid things will become very unpleasant for you from here on out.”

Hander slowly made eye contact with me. “What you got in mind, Marshal?”

“I’ll let you out of here on the condition that you accept the job working on the freight line that I secured for Elser.”

“You want me to work? Forget it, Marshal! I’d rather rot in prison than enslave myself to someone else for the rest of my life.”

I sighed sadly. “Suit yourself. Hander, I thought there was still some hope left for you. Clearly, I was wrong. Such a shame. You could’ve had a good life, with a wife and kids… The circuit judge will be here next week. He’ll decided your fate.”

I left the jail, closing the wooden door behind me. All I could do now was to wait and hope that a few days in jail might finally bring Hander to his senses.

Chapter Text

Boot Hill… So called because the men who are buried there died with their boots on. Some consider that to be the highest honor, but most descent citizens view such burials as highly dishonor able . Most of these burials don’t even have a flimsy piece of wood with a painted nickname to indicate who might be buried there. They’re just a mound of earth with a few weeds . It’s a far cry from the elegant carved headstones that mark each gave in the consecrated ground of the church cemetery. For me, the worst graves are those that contain a young person. They indicate each wasted life. Unfortunately, it’s always the mothers and wives who suffer the most from these pointless deaths...

***

“Mister Dillon! Mister Dillon, are you hurt bad? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m all right, Chester… You know what to do, Chester.”

“Yes, sir. Here, take the gun. Give me a hand here.”

“Marshal Dillon? I was wrong. You’ve got your duty. A terrible duty. Another unmarked grave.”

“Well, maybe we can get a marker for both of them this time, Mrs Randolph. For that boy, and your son.”

***

“Doc?” I called as I staggered into Doc’s office, clutching my bleeding left-hand side.

“Yeah, Matt, I’m all ready for you,” Doc said from where he was standing, washing his hands and arms thoroughly with carbolic soap in a large basin. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught my surprised expression. “Well, you needn’t look so surprised! I heard all that gunfire, and when I saw you coming this way holding your side, I figured you’d need me.” He canted his head towards the examination table. “You’d better lie down before you collapse.”

“Yeah…”

I perched myself on the edge of the examination table, still clutching my bleeding abdomen tightly. Cautiously, I eased myself down onto my back, resting my head on the soft feather pillow. Doc came over to me, and he felt my wrist for my pulse.

“Were you only hit once?”

I nodded, wincing slightly. “I think the bullet’s still in there though.”

“Move your hand, so I can take a look.”

I tentatively removed my bloodied hand from my side. Doc tugged my shirttails up, revealing the full extent of the still bleeding bullet wound. He frowned grimly.

“It’s bad, isn’t it, Doc?”

“Well, it’s certainly not good… You’re right about the bullet still being in there. I can’t see an exit wound…”

Doc gently palpated my abdomen around the bullet hole. I winced sharply, gritting my teeth against the sharp, stabbing pain. It took all my willpower to remain completely still during Doc’s examination.

“I can feel the bullet all right,” Doc reported. “Fortunately, I don’t think it’s in too deep...”

I watched as Doc moved over to a medicine cabinet that was beyond my field of vision. I turned my head to the left so I could try and see what he was doing. Due to the angle, I couldn’t see very much, so I returned to staring up at the ceiling.

“Well, are you gonna get it out?”

“I sure am,” Doc muttered, still focusing on whatever task he was doing. “Need to put you to sleep first though.”

“A few shots of whiskey should be enough.”

“Not this time. I’m going to anesthetize you. If that bullet is where I think it is, I can’t risk you wriggling around like a worm on hook while I’m trying to get it out. Could kill you.”

Doc returned to my side with a strange-looking contraption in his hands. It appeared to be a small metal canister with a rubber face mask beneath it, and a small paper bag sticking out from the top.

“What’s that for?” I asked anxiously, while attempting to prop myself up on both elbows.

“Now, you just lie still there, Matt,” Doc soothed as he made me lie back down. “You’re going to be all right. This is an inhaler for the chloroform. You’re just going to go to sleep for a little while, and when you wake up, it’ll all be over.”

I frowned as I stared at the inhaler. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Well, it is. For you. I’m the one who’s got to operate.”

“Doc, no. I don’t want any anaesthesia.”

“Why not? Have you ever been anesthetized before?”

“Only during the war when the field medic pulled a musket ball out of my leg. Tasted horrible though. And the medic lied. He said it’d knock me out so I wouldn’t feel anything.”

“Sounds to me like he used ether. It doesn’t always work as intended.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t work for me! I’d have been better off drunk. All I remember was the pain. Felt like I was being branded. I nearly kicked that fool medic in the jaw, so that helped me feel a bit better. I’d have kicked him properly if I hadn’t been held down at the time.”

Doc chuckled. “Well, I ain’t gonna let you have a chance of trying to kick me! Here, now you just relax there…”

After putting on his stethoscope, Doc placed the rubber mask of the inhaler over my nose and mouth. He held it firmly in place. With his left hand, he positioned the bell of the stethoscope o ver my chest.

“Breathe in deeply, Matt,” Doc instructed with a gentleness he usually reserved for his younger patients.

I reluctantly did so, expecting the chloroform to have the same acerbic odor of ether. Instead, I was mildly surprised to find that it didn’t smell too bad at all. In fact, I’d have described it as sweet, like Kitty’s perfume. After I’d taken several deep breaths, I began to feel drowsy.

“That’s it, Matt,” Doc soothed kindly. “Keep breathing deeply. Don’t try to fight it.”

I didn’t. Trusting that Doc would look after me, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift off to sleep.

***

“Matt? Matt, can you hear me? I think you can. I saw your eyelids move.”

I moaned sleepily when Kitty’ s melodic voice penetrated the deep fog of sleep that surrounded me . I felt surprisingly well-rested.

“Doc? I think he’s waking up.”

Doc clicked the lid of his pocket watch closed as he stood up from his desk chair. “Not bad… Not too bad at all. It’s only taken him about ten minutes to regain consciousness.”

I heard Doc’s familiar footfall as he came over to the examination table where I still lay prostrate. I felt him begin to go through his usual medical checks – feeling my pulse, touching my forehead to check my temperature, and listening to my heart and lungs with his stethoscope.

“How is he, Doc?” Kitty asked apprehensively as Doc finished his examination of me.

“Well, I reckon he’s going to be all right in a day or two,” Doc answered. “Considering he was only under the influence of the anesthetic for about forty-five minutes, he’s responded to it well. He just needs to rest for now. I’ll try and get him to drink something within the next half hour. He’ll probably feel a little nauseous for a couple of hours. Side-effect of the chloroform.”

“Doc?” I whispered as I slowly blinked open my eyelids. They felt so heavy. First Doc and then Kitty came into focus.

“Yeah, Matt. I’m right here. How are you feeling?”

“Tired… Did you get that bullet out?”

“I sure did, Matt. You were lucky. It just missed your intestines by a fraction of an inch. Now, you just lay still and rest there. You might feel a bit sick from the chloroform, so just let me know if you do.”

“Okay, Doc. Kitty? What are you doing here?”

“Paying you a sick call. Chester came and told me you’d been shot. I waited outside until I could see through the window that Doc had finished removing the bullet.”

I closed my eyes and turned my head slightly to the right, finding a comfortable position on the pillow. It was only then that I became aware of the wide bandage wrapped around my wa is t. For once, I was glad of it, because I now suddenly felt a chill. I shivered in response.

“Doc?” Kitty called anxiously. “I think he’s feverish.”

“He’s not. Chills are common after anesthesia,” Doc explained. “Chloroform lowers the heart rate, making it difficult for the patient to regulate body heat. I’ll fetch him a blanket. You just stay with him.”

Doc returned to my side after a couple of minutes with a blanket, which he draped over me. While Doc was busy cleaning the tools he’d used to remove the bullet, Kitty tenderly stroked the back of my left hand. The steady, rhythmic movement was extremely soothing and helped to keep me quiet. Our peaceful moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

“See who that is, Kitty,” Doc instructed. “It’s probably Chester, coming to pester us as usual.”

“Oh, Doc!” Kitty admonished as she crossed the room. “He isn’t that bad. Besides, he’s entitled to be just as worried about Matt as we are.”

Kitty opened the door to find an older woman standing there.

“Yes? Who are you?”

“I’m Mrs Randolph,” the woman answered. “I’ve come to see how Marshal Dillon is doing, if I may?”

Doc momentarily turned his attention to Mrs Randolph. “Mrs Randolph? Come in, please, and take a seat.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Kitty closed the door, pushing it slightly harder than usual, causing the window glass to rattle . Turning my head to the left, I made eye contact with Mrs Randolph as she gazed down at me.

“Will he be all right, doctor?” Mrs Randolph asked.

Doc nodded in my direction. “Oh, sure, he’ll be just fine, ma’am. He needs to rest though, so you can’t stay to o long.”

“I suppose I ought to explain my connection with the Marshal. You see, I came to see him yesterday, to find out if he knew my son.”

“And did he?” Kitty asked, her curiosity taking over from her annoyance.

“Yes, I’m afraid he did. He told me that my son was buried on Boot Hill.”

Ashamed, Mrs Randolph buried her face in her hands for a moment. Kitty’s annoyance instantly changed to compassion. She placed a kindly arm around Mrs Randolph ’s shoulders.

“I-I wanted to help that boy that the Marshal had in custody...uh, Blackie? I believe that was the name he went by. I tried to help him escape. When that didn’t work, I followed the Marshal down to the depot this morning to watch them board the train. I saw the whole gunfight. It was the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed. Blackie was gunned down by his own men. They didn’t care what happened to him. I realized then that I’d been wrong in trying to help the boy. I shouldn’t have tried to help him at all. Like my son, he made his choice, for good or ill.”

Doc breathed a heavy sigh as he removed his glasses. “Well, I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s not much more I can say.”

“Oh, please don’t concern yourself with me, doctor. I just… I don’t want the Marshal to forget his promise to me, that’s all.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Mrs Randolph,” I said, gently reassuring her. “It might take me a while to get things organized though.”

“That’s quite all right, Marshal Dillon. I’m still staying over at the Dodge House, so you just come find me when you’re well enough. Take as long as you need to recover, and you make sure you do everything your doctor tells you to do, you hear?”

“I will, Mrs Randolph,” I agreed, ignoring Doc’s chuckling.

“I’ll show you out, Mrs Randolph,” Kitty offered, escorting her over to the door.

I slowly closed my eyes. The after-effects of the chloroform had made me excessively drowsy, and so I was more than ready to go back to sleep. However, that wasn’t to be. I felt Doc gently slip an arm under my shoulders. Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes a slit as he raised me a few inches off the pillow. He pressed a glass of water to my lips. Without being asked, I began to drink. I even surprised myself by just how thirsty I was.

“That’ll do for now, Matt,” Doc said after I’d drained about half the glass. “I can see you’re exhausted, so I’ll give you the rest when you wake up in a few hours.”

“Thanks Doc,” I whispered almost inaudibly.

I don’t even remember Doc lowering my head back down onto the pillow, or Kitty returning to my side.

***

Two days later found myself seated alongside Doc in his buggy heading out to Boot Hill. Behind us, Mrs Randolph drove her hired sulky, with Kitty seated alongside her. Chester rode his horse with us. He was needed, since Doc had only permitted me to come if I promised to stay in his buggy. He didn’t want me stretching my wounded side any more than necessary, due to the stitches.

When we arrived, I directed Doc over to where Mrs Randolph’s son, Lawrence, had been buried two years earlier. It wasn’t easy to find the grave due to the amount of weeds that had grown over it, but find it we did. Doc parked the buggy where I could see the grave without having to get down.

“Stay here, Matt,” Doc instructed as he handed the reins to me.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

While the others gathered around the unmarked grave, I subconsciously rubbed my abdomen. The healing bullet wound was healing nicely, but the stitches were beginning to itch. To take my mind off my injury, I fiddled with the lines.

Kitty comforted Mrs Randolph while Doc and Chester erected a simple wooden cross at one end of the grave. Burnt into the wood was Lawrence’s full name and the years he’d been alive. Once the cross was up, Doc spoke quietly to Mrs Randolph. I couldn’t hear what he said, but Mrs Randolph appeared to take comfort in his words.

After a moment, Mrs Randolph approached me. Doc, Chester and Kitty kindly kept their distance so she could speak with me privately.

“Marshal Dillon? I’m sorry about the trouble I’ve caused you…”

“Mrs Randolph,” I interrupted. “It’s been no trouble at all. I’m just glad that you’ve now had some closure. Your son won’t be forgotten now. I’ll stop by from time to time to visit him on your behalf.”

Tears pricked Mrs Randolph’s eyes. “Thank you, Marshal. You’re a credit to your profession, and I’ll make sure everyone knows that. Now, let’s go visit that poor other boy and put up his marker.”

I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Chapter Text

Not all of my injuries have been physical ones. On occasion, I have suffered from some terrible, emotional injuries too. Those wounds are harder, and take much longer to heal than the physical ones. Especially when the incident involves a close personal friend of mine. Although many years have passed, I still blame myself for what happened to my friend, Zel, on that terrible night during the annual round-up. Despite what anyone else says or thinks, I was the one with my finger on the trigger. It’s one of the few bullets I wish I’d never fired...

***

“Matt? Matt, I think that did it…”

“Oh, Zel!”

“It was my fault. I crossed the street. I left the Carbine with Chester.”

“Oh, Zel, I…”

“Matt… Listen to me. You did right. The only thing you could do. It was my fault. Anyway, I ain’t been living on my own time since the day you pulled me out of that mob in Alamogordo. I never did...thank you...for that...”

***

Now that the last drunken cowboy had ridden out of town, Front Street was eerily silent. Slowly, I made my way back towards my office. With each step I took, my anger began to dissipate. By the time I stepped through the doorway, I felt completely drained, both emotionally and physically.

Chester and Doc turned to look at me, uncertainty written all over their expressions. I leaned, resting my right shoulder against the door frame. From where I stood, I could see that Doc had wrapped poor Zel in a blanket, ready for burial. The sight made my stomach twist, like I’d just been kicked there. I drew in a short breath of air before swallowing. I really needed a drink. And not just one that would satisfy my thirst. I needed something to numb my emotions before I lost control of them completely. Without saying a word, I crossed the room. I returned the rifle to the wall-mounted rack, ensuring the chain was securely locked in place.

I then turned my attention to the cabinet behind my desk, where I kept a small bottle of whiskey on hand for emergency purposes. I took a swig, ignoring Doc and Chester’s steely glares. They knew it was completely abnormal for me to drink when I was upset. Perhaps they’d get the hint that what happened tonight was something far from normal.

“Matt,” Doc said, breaking the strained silence. He tugged on his ear as he stepped over to me. “Matt, I think you should go to bed now.”

I shook my head before taking a second mouthful of whiskey. Doc frowned, clearly concerned. He knew that I hated getting drunk. He had a hard enough time getting me drunk enough to knock me out whenever he needed to operate on me.

I just killed one of my best friends. Gunned him down like I would a common outlaw… How could Zel have been so forgiving? This has to be a nightmare… I need to wake up…

I shook my head and shivered, willing myself to snap out of the nightmare. Doc’s next words snapped me back to reality.

“Well, you could at least let me take a look at that crease on your arm.”

I’d forgotten all about that. Begrudgingly, I set the whiskey bottle down on my desk, corking the top. I rolled up my left sleeve, so Doc could examine where a bullet had grazed me during the melee. Doc took a cursory glance at the wound.

“I think you’d better come up to my office. It’s not bad, but it does need to be cleaned.”

I picked up the whiskey bottle, holding it out to him. “Go ahead.”

“I need more than just alcohol,” Doc grumbled. “Come on, and don’t argue. The walk will do you good in any case. Clear your head some. We’ll be back later, Chester.”

Seeing that I couldn’t get out of it this time, I followed Doc out of my office. We made our way down Front Street, heading towards Doc’s office. As we approached the Long Branch Saloon, Kitty emerged from the darkened doorway. She stepped in front of us, blocking our path.

“Matt…” Kitty began, but I brushed past her, completely ignoring her.

“Leave him be for now, Kitty,” I heard Doc say quietly. “He’s upset and in shock. I’ll do what I can for him.”

“I see… Goodnight, Doc.”

“Night, Kitty.”

“Doc?” Kitty called, regaining our friend’s attention. “Matt will be all right, won’t he? I mean, I’ve never seen him look the way he did earlier…”

Because I’d continued walking up the street, their conversation faded out of my hearing range. I didn’t need to hear the rest. Everyone was angry with me, including Kitty. I was angry too. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

It was Torp’s fault, I reminded myself. He tried to ambush me. Perhaps it’s just as well I killed him when I did…

I paused to lean against an awning pole, waiting for Doc to catch up. It was then that I realized just how tired I really was. After a few minutes, Doc approached me from behind. I knew it was him due to the sound of his footfall. I fell into step alongside him, and we continued the rest of the way to his office.

Once we’d entered Doc’s office, I removed my hat and perched myself on the edge of the examination table while I waited for Doc to gather together his medical paraphernalia. I released a heavy, tired sigh as I ran my fingers through my hair.

“Are you cold?” Doc asked.

The question caught me off-guard. “What?”

Doc pressed a hand against my forehead, checking my temperature. “You’re shivering. It’s probably because you’re in shock. I’ll get you something to help with that in a minute. Just need to clean up this bullet wound first...”

“Doc, I…” I was too tired to argue with him, so I left off what I was going to say.

“You’re blaming yourself for what happened, aren’t you?”

I nodded, unable to deny that fact. “Before he died, Zel said he didn’t blame me for shooting him. Kept saying it was his fault for crossing the street…” Unable to hold back the tears any longer, I buried my head in my right hand, doing my best to hide the few tears that managed to escape and roll down my cheeks from Doc.

But Doc didn’t seem to notice. He poured some carbolic acid onto a cloth. “Hold still. This’ll sting a little.”

I flinched and winced as Doc pressed the soaked cloth against the bullet graze. While Doc cleaned out the wound, I managed to swallow the rest of the tears that had threatened to fall.

“I just don’t know what more I could’ve done… If I’d deputized twenty men like Summers and Torp wanted, there’d have been carnage, and they’d have all blamed me… I deputized one man, and there was still carnage because Torp wanted to kill me because I wouldn’t let him have his way… No doubt, everyone will blame me for closing Front Street…”

“You sure walk a thin tightrope, Matt,” Doc agreed. He continued cleaning my wound while he spoke. “What was that you said yesterday? ‘When a peace officer does his job right, he pleases no-one’. It’s a case of you’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t. At any rate, I sure don’t envy you your job. There, that’s not looking too bad now. I’ll just wrap it for you, to keep it clean.”

“Do you think I did the right thing tonight, Doc?”

“Whether it was right or wrong, I don’t think you couldn’t done anything else. What the fine businessmen of this town forget is that you’re only one man. One lawman in a town of about five hundred residents is almost unheard of. It wouldn’t be so bad if Dodge had a Sheriff or even a Town Marshal as well as you, but you wear those hats too.”

While Doc spoke, he wrapped a bandage securely around my upper arm.

“That’s only because nobody else wants to do the job,” I mused. “I know I should appoint some deputies, but I haven’t found anyone suitable. Chester does his best, but he’s too easily distracted. I hate to say it aloud, but I can’t rely on him.”

Doc placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “Matt, you’re exhausted and you’re over-analyzing everything. And the only treatment for that is a good night’s sleep. To make sure you get that, I’m going to give you a couple of sleeping pills, and then I want you to go straight to bed.”

I nodded, too tired to be bothered fighting with Doc. Besides, I knew he was right.

“What about Zel?”

“I’ll organize for his burial in the morning,” Doc said as he went over to his medicine cabinet to collect the pills.

“No. I’ll take care of it.” I hopped down from the examination table, ignoring the sting of protest from the damaged muscles in my left arm. “Couldn’t stand to see him buried on Boot Hill. He was too good a man to end up there. I’ll find a nice spot for him first thing in the morning. I just… Doc, I’m really going to miss him. He was a good friend.”

“You’ll never be short of good friends, Matt. I hope you know that.”

I nodded, doing my best to stifle a yawn. I failed miserably. Doc handed me a couple of small, white pills and a glass of water. I placed the pills on my tongue before raising the glass to my lips. Doc watched me swallow the pills. I could see that he was confused by my lack of resistance to taking them.

“I’ll walk you to your room, Matt,” Doc offered. “Make sure you get there safely.”

“I need to check in on Chester first.”

“I’ll do that after you’re in bed. Those pills won’t take long to work, so let’s get going.”

Together, we made our way down Front Street towards the boarding house where I had a room. The room I rented was unique, because it could be accessed via an external door as well as an internal one, so I could come and go at all hours without disturbing any of the other residents. Fortunately, very few people knew that I had a room at that boarding house. Most people assumed that I slept at the jailhouse along with Chester. Although I did on occasion, I also needed a space of my own away from my office where I could escape from the stress of my job, even if it was only for a few hours a day . Due to the nature of my job, it was difficult for me to get the deep sleep I needed, since I so often had to sleep with one ear, and one eye, open.

After I’d unlocked the door, Doc followed me inside my room. By then, I could feel the sleeping pills starting to take effect. I sank down on the edge of my bed to remove my boots, while Doc lit a lamp.

“Better take your gun belt off too,” Doc advised.

“Yeah…”

My fingers fumbled with the buckle. Doc ended up having to help me. He placed the gun belt on the bed next to me, so I could easily reach it if needed. I lay down, resting my head on the pillows.

“Do you have a spare key so I can lock the door when I leave?” Doc asked.

“In the vase on the dresser,” I answered, my voice slurring slightly as I began to drift off to sleep.

Vaguely, I heard Doc fish the spare key out of the vase.

“I’ll return it to you tomorrow. Night, Matt.”

I don’t even remember replying.

***

Despite everything, I awoke suddenly shortly before dawn. Although I was unsure as to what may have awoken me (in hindsight, I believe it was a cat-fight) , after seeing the time I figured it wasn’t worth trying to go back to sleep. I hoped that the events of the night before were little more than a bad nightmare. Sadly, those hopes were dashed when I entered my office and, after lighting a lamp, I saw Zel’s wrapped body still lying on the cot.

I found Chester fast asleep and snoring softly in one of the jail cells. Reluctantly, I shook him awake.

“Urgh! Wha…?” Chester spluttered, swinging his arms wildly as he regained consciousness.

“Relax, Chester. It’s just me.”

“Mister Dillon?”

“Get up and get dressed,” I ordered. “We need to bury Zel.”

“What, now? But it’s still dark out!”

“Can’t leave it for too much longer. Besides, I don’t want anyone besides you to know where I’m burying him. How are your ankles feeling?”

“Hmm…?”

With a weary groan, Chester attempted to settle back down to sleep. Shaking my head, I left the cell. I made my way outside, heading across the street towards Moss Grimmick’s livery stable to hire a buckboard wagon and to borrow a shovel. Like Chester, he didn’t much appreciate being awoken so early, so I paid him the hire fee and hitched up the horse myself.

Fifteen minutes later, having parked the wagon outside the jailhouse, I returned inside. Chester was up and dressed, albeit limping even worse than usual.

“I’ve got a wagon outside,” I told him. “I know a nice spot where we can bury Zel.”

“All right, Mister Dillon,” Chester said, stifling a yawn. “You want a hand with ‘im?”

“No, I think I’ll be able to manage him. You get yourself settled in the wagon.”

Respectfully, I carried Zel’s body out to the wagon. It wasn’t easy, since rigor mortis had just begun to set in, but I managed. Once I had him settled in the wagon’s tray, I wearily climbed up to join Chester on the seat.

“You look like you could use a few more hours of sleep,” Chester commented as I gathered up the lines. He yawned and stretched. “I know I sure could…”

I wiped a hand over my face. “I’ll be all right. Doc gave me a couple of sleeping pills last night, but they’ll wear off in a couple of hours. The sun will be up by then anyway.”

I gave the lines a flick and we set off, heading out of town in the opposite direction of Boot Hill.

Chapter Text

As an enforcer of Federal law, I’m often called upon to intervene in land disputes. They can be messy, due to the unregulated nature of land claims out here in the west. Sure, the big property owners think they’re always in the right because they were their first, but they forget that nesters have land rights too. Sadly, I’ve seen too many good people killed due to something as simple as cattle straying onto the wrong side of the fence. Usually, it’s the wife and kids who suffer the most, but on this occasion, it was a woman who made the fatal mistake of being too loyal to her feuding husband…

***

“You’re not gonna shoot anyone, Hoffer, now give me the gun. Come on, I said give it to me!”

“Zack Ritter, Mister Dillon!”

(Gunshot)

“Are you hurt bad, Mister Dillon?”

“No, it’s all right… Here! Get him outta here! Take him and lock him up!”

“What about your arm?”

“Doc won’t be back until tonight. I’ll take care of it then. Go on!”

“All right, let’s go, Hoffer!”

***

With Doc not due back in town before dark, there was little I could do for my injured forearm. The wound stung, badly, despite the pressure from the handkerchief that I’d wrapped tightly around it.

Probably because of the powder burns , I reasoned as I made my way back to my office. Short of another man threatening murder, I didn’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon. I had a lot of paperwork I needed to get done, and with my arm smarting so painfully, I wasn’t in the mood to have my patience tested again that day.

Chester was just hanging the jail cell keys back on their hook when I entered. I hung my hat on its hook before closing the door behind me.

“I got Eric Hoffer all locked up, Mister Dillon,” Chester began. “He’s complaining like a mule with a sore head.”

“That’s fine, Chester,” I muttered crossly as I made my way over to my desk. “I don’t care how much he complains, as long as he doesn’t try to kill Zack Ritter again.”

I took a half-finished report out of my desk drawer and, after dipping my pen in the inkwell, I began to complete it.

“How’s your arm, Mister Dillon?” Chester asked, peering over my shoulder.

I almost slammed the pen down, but I just managed to restrain myself. “Chester, please! I have work to do. Just… Go outside, and keep an eye out for Doc. Let him know I need to see him as soon as he gets back.”

“But Doc won’t be back for hours…”

I cast Chester such a threatening stare that he immediately backed away towards the door.

“Okay, Mister Dillon. I-I’ll be outside i-if you n-need me f-for anything...”

I breathed a sigh of relief as Chester finally stepped outside. After refreshing the ink on my pen, I resumed writing.

***

The sun had almost set by the time I finally caught up on all my paperwork. Fortunately, nobody had disturbed me all afternoon, save for Chester. He’d returned a couple of hours after I’d sent him out, to make a fresh pot of coffee for us. I’d appreciated the break, even if it was for a cup of one of Chester’s concoctions.

I was just filing the last of my completed paperwork when the office door flew open. Chester burst inside, followed closely by Doc.

“Doc just got back, Mister Dillon,” Chester announced.

“Literally,” Doc grumbled, setting his bag down on the table. “Chester practically pulled me out of my buggy! You could at least give a body a chance to catch his breath!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Doc, but Mister Dillon said to fetch you over here as soon as you got back.”

I slammed the filing cabinet closed. “Chester, you don’t have to take my words quite so literally, you know.”

“What?”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind.”

Doc swiped his mustache. “Well, now that I a m here, what did you need to see me about, Matt?”

“I just need you to take care of a crease I got from a bullet earlier.” While I spoke, I held out my left arm so Doc could see the handkerchief.

“All right, let’s take a look and see what you’ve done to yourself this time.”

Doc untied the knot, and he put my handkerchief down on the table. The crease wasn’t deep, but it was quite wide and long. It had already started to heal over, but blood still oozed in a few places around the middle.

“You done anything to treat this yourself, Matt?” Doc asked as he put on his glasses to take a closer look.

“No.”

Doc grunted. He opened his bag and took out a bar of carbolic soap that he always carried with him. He went over to the washstand to wash his hands.

“Have you been feverish?” Doc asked.

“No. Bit irritable, perhaps, but I haven’t felt sick or anything.”

Doc dried his hands before returning to the table. Reaching into his bag, he took out a bottle containing a clear liquid.

“Come over to the washstand, Matt, and hold your arm over the basin.”

I followed Doc’s instructions, holding my left arm still with my right hand. Doc pulled the cork from the bottle, and I immediately recognized the pungent odor of turpentine. Doc began to pour the turpentine straight onto the wound. Instinctively, pulled my arm back with a pain ed yelp. The turpentine stung worse than the wound itself.

“Hold still, Matt!” Doc ordered as some of the turpentine dripped from my arm onto the floor. “Chester, come and hold his arm still for me, will ya?”

I cast Chester a dirty look as he took a firm hold of my left arm.

“Sorry, Mister Dillon…” At least Chester had the decency to apologize for him role in causing me pain.

With my arm now secured, Doc resumed pouring turpentine into the wound. I grimaced and winced the whole time, despite knowing that Doc needed to cause me pain in order to prevent something far worse.

Finally, after draining half the bottle, Doc replaced the cork. “There now. That should be enough to kill off any infection.”

“Think you darn near killed my arm too,” I muttered as I swiped a few tears away from the corners of my eyes. Turpentine fumes were terrible.

Returning to the table, Doc cut a piece of gauze padding large enough to cover the wound.

“Here, Matt. Hold this in place while I wrap the bandage,” Doc instructed.

Using the middle and index fingers of my right hand, I held the gauze in place. Doc began wrapping the bandage around my arm.

“This should’ve been taken care of before now,” Doc grumbled, stating the obvious.

“Well, you’ve been out in the country all day,” I pointed out.

“Well, I can’t sit around neglecting my other patients waiting for you to get shot!”

“You might make more money that way,” I teased. After all, I was one of only a handful of people I knew who could afford to pay Doc in cash.

“The only way I could make any more money around here is to have your job!” Doc countered, tightening the bandage.

Now that was the biggest joke I’d heard in years! “Huh! You wouldn’t get rich that way either.”

Chester also laughed, which drew my attention to him.

“Chester, go get Hoffer will ya?”

Chester immediately mellowed. “Oh, yes sir…” Grabbing the keys from the hook behind me, he disappeared into the jail.

“I want you to watch this, Matt,” Doc said, snapping my attention back to my arm.

“Well, it looks as clean as rain to me.”

“I know…” Doc frowned severely. “You never can tell about a thing like this though. It can get infected overnight.”

“I don’t see how it can get infected after all that turpentine you poured in there!” I glowered at Doc, hoping to get my point across. The wound was still smarting, and I knew it would for a while yet.

Having finished wrapping and tying the bandage securely, Doc gazed up, making eye contact with me. I could see a gleam of delight in his eyes as he grinned.

“Hehe! Hurt you, didn’t it?”

I grimaced, realizing that he’d somehow enjoyed seeing me in pain this time. He’d either had a bad day, or he was just being extra ornery. I flexed my arm, trying to loosen the bandage a little to make it comfortable.

“You know, one of these days, I might get a chance to work on you!” I threatened. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than being able to give Doc a dose of his own medicine.

Doc recoiled in shock, removing his glasses. “Oh, no, sir! I couldn’t stand that! I-I’d sooner die…out on the prairie…in the snow… All alone...bleed to death in the snow! Nobody around to bury me…”

“Now how did you get out in the snow anyway?” I asked rhetorically while continuing to flex my arm. Somehow, moving it seemed to help ease the pain.

“Hmm? Oh! I hate snow!”

I laughed heartily. It was fun bantering with Doc. I stopped laughing abruptly when Chester returned to the office along with Hoffer.

“Here he is, Mister Dillon,” Chester announced.

I stopped flexing my arm and I rolled down the sleeve as I turned to face my prisoner. “Hoffer? I’m gonna turn you loose, providing you go straight home.”

Hoffer looked confused. “How come?”

“Because Zack Ritter won’t prefer charges against you,” I explained. “He says you’ve got a farm to work.”

“Some farm I’ll have if he doesn’t fence in his cattle,” Hoffer grumbled.

“You ever try fencing in your corn?” I retorted as I went over to my desk and opened the drawer. “You might find that barbed wire is a lot cheaper than gunpowder in the long run.”

“Don’t preach to me, Marshal!” Hoffer snapped.

Sighing, I held Hoffer’s pistol out to him.

“Look, you try using this again, I’m not gonna wait for someone to prefer charges against you,” I warned.

Hoffer begrudgingly snatched the gun out of my hand, tucking it into his belt. He left without saying another word, almost slamming the door closed behind him.

“Some people are just so ungrateful,” Chester muttered after Hoffer had gone.

“Yes, they sure are,” Doc agreed, looking pointedly at me.

“All right, Doc, I can take a hint,” I grumbled. “Thanks for fixing up my arm.”

“That’ll be a dollar,” Doc declared, holding out his hand.

Bristling, I reached into my vest pocket. I took out the few remaining coins I had from my last paycheck. After sorting through them, I handed Doc a dollar coin.

“And a drink,” Doc added, smirking.

“You ought to be buying me a drink, given the torture you’ve just put me through,” I countered. “My arm felt a whole lot better before you started treating it.”

“Well, I suppose I could prescribe a dose of whiskey for the pain…” Doc muttered, realizing I had him licked.

I laughed heartily. “Come on, Doc! Guess we’ll just end up buying our own drinks anyway, like we often do.”

“Err… Mister Dillon?” Chester interjected. “You got any money?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Reaching into my pocket again, I took out a quarter.

“Here you are, Chester. Don’t spend it all at once.”

“Oh, I won’t, Mister Dillon.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Doc muttered.

Crossing the room, I collected my hat from its peg. Then, I left my office, followed closely by Doc and Chester.

***

Owing to a couple of drunks, I decided to sleep in my office that night. Chester seemed glad for the company, because we talked long into the night. Or rather, he did. I mostly just listened while playing a game of solitaire.

As a result of the late night, I ended up oversleeping a little. Not that fifteen, or even twenty, minutes of extra sleep would make much difference in my life. Anyway, I was still in bed when Doc made his regular morning appearance.

“Morning, Chester,” Doc said, closing the office door loudly behind him. “Where’s Matt this morning?”

“Oh, he’s still in bed,” Chester answered, stifling a yawn.

Doc scoffed. “Looks like you shouldn’t have left yours…”

I heard Doc shuffling his way across the floor towards my cot. I pretended to still be fast asleep. It was a useful skill to have, and so I took the opportunity to practice on Doc whenever possible.

Doc sighed heavily. I sensed that he was studying me. After a moment, I felt Doc place his hand on my forehead.

“Chester? How well did Matt sleep last night?”

Chester came around the corner to join us. “Oh, he slept about as well as he usually does. Why?”

“I’m just worried about that arm of his. I brought my bag, so I could change the dressing before breakfast.”

“Doc? He’s not sick or anything, is he?”

“Well, I’m not sure…” Doc gently pressed the back of his hand against my left cheek. “He doesn’t feel feverish, but his face is a little flushed.”

I listened attentively as Doc made his way over to the washstand to wash his hands. After doing so, Doc returned to my side, perching himself on the edge of the narrow mattress. He pulled my left arm out from under the blanket, and rolled up the sleeve. He then set about unwrapping the bandage.

“You want any coffee, Doc?” Chester asked.

“Sure. Thanks, Chester.”

Having removed the bandage, I felt Doc carefully remove the gauze pad. I decided that now was a good time to give up any pretense of still being asleep. I slowly blinked open my eyes to see Doc staring down at me.

“Morning, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. How’s my arm?”

“Well, the good news is that it’s not infected.”

“So what’s the bad news?”

“Who said anything about there being any bad news? I sure didn’t!”

I chuckled. “You mean I’ll live?”

“Well, some people might think that’s bad news…”

Chester laughed as he carried Doc’s coffee over to him.

“Oh, thanks, Chester.”

Twisting, I glanced at Chester over my left shoulder. “You got any of that for me?”

“Is he allowed to have some, Doc?” Chester asked.

“Sure. No reason why he can’t.” Doc drank a sip of his own coffee. “Urgh! On second thoughts, Matt, I think you should leave well enough alone. Save your coffee drinking for Delmonico’s.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Oh, forevermore! Doc! That’s a terrible thing to say!” Chester protested as he poured out a cup for me. He brought it over, carefully handing it to me.

“Thanks, Chester. I think I’ll risk it, Doc.” I lifted my injured arm higher to take a better look at it. “Are you going to wrap my arm again?”

“Yes, I think I’d better,” Doc agreed. He set his coffee cup aside and dug into his medical bag for a fresh gauze pad. “I’ll reuse that bandage, since you only slept in it. Chester? Could you hold this pad in place over the wound?”

“Sure, Doc.”

With Chester holding the gauze pad in place, I sipped my coffee while watching Doc wrap the bandage around my arm.

“Not so tight, Doc! I still need to use that arm.”

“I’ll decide how tight it needs to be,” Doc grumbled. He tied off the bandage securely. “There, now. I’m ready for breakfast, and I hope you are too.”

“I sure am, Doc.”

Doc stood up, enabling me to swing my legs over the edge of the cot. I began to pull on my boots.

“Chester? Why don’t you release our guests?”

“Of course, sir…”

After I’d sent the drunks on their way, the three of us left my office, heading down the street towards our favorite restaurant for a hearty breakfast.

Chapter Text

Not all of my injuries have been visible. I've suffered many emotional wounds too. I hate killing. I’ve always hated it. The first time I ever killed a fellow man was during the war. It made me feel sick to my stomach knowing that I'd been responsible for ending another man's life. But it’s sometimes the only option available when it comes to keeping the peace. Sometimes, I wish my aim wasn’t so good. I’d rather wound a man than kill him outright. But some men are just so dangerous that killing them is the only option. Especially when innocent lives are at stake...

***

“Joe Stanger’s back. He come back this morning.”

“Well, does he know about that deputy taking Brand back to Wichita for trial?”

“Yeah. But that ain’t what matters…”

“Well Chester, I’m not interested in Stanger anymore. I don’t care about him.”

“Mister Dillon, I don’t think that you understand.”

“Understand what?”

“He come into the Long Branch, and he insulted one of the girls. When she slapped him, well… He shot her.”

“Which girl, Chester?”

“Well, it was that nice one, the one that he was so mean to before.”

“Linda Hawkins?”

“Yeah, and nobody dared stand up to him. Nobody. So I got one of the horses out at the hitch rail and I come for you!”

“I’m not Marshal anymore, Chester! I quit!”

“That don’t matter!”

“Well it matters to me. That girl’s dead. I can’t help her now.”

“Oh, Mister Dillon, you can’t let him get by with this! You just can’t!”

“I told you, Chester, I’m through fighting and killing.”

“Mister Dillon, you’re the only one in Dodge that can stand up against him, and you know it!”

“Well, maybe so… But I’m still not gonna do it!”

“Mister Dillon… I’ve been thinkin’ lately, a whole lot about all this, and there’s just something that you’ve been forgettin’!”

“That so?”

“Yeah, that’s so! It’s men like Stanger and Brand! ‘Cause they got to be stopped, that’s all! They gotta be! I’d do it if I could, but I can’t! I just ain’t good enough. Most men ain’t, b-but you are. It’s kinda too bad for you that you are, but that’s the way it is, and there ain’t a thing in the world that you can do about it. Not now. It’s too late, Mister Dillon, it’s way too late.”

***

Chester’s impassioned plea still rang in my ears as I approached the outskirts of Dodge. Much as I hated to admit it, he was right about one thing. Whether I liked it or not, I seemed to have a natural talent for peacekeeping. Despite having tried numerous other jobs during my youth, I seemed to have been born to the badge.

I slowed the borrowed horse to a walk as I rode into Dodge. Although there were people lingering around, I could sense a level of fear hanging in the still dry air. I glanced at several people, noting that they seemed somewhat relieved to see me.

Seeing Doc reclining in one of the chairs outside the Marshal’s office, I rode over. I dismounted, tying the horse to the rail.

“Matt. I see that Chester found you,” Doc commented as I sat down next to him.

“Yeah, he found me…” I buried my head in my hands with a heavy sigh.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“They’re worth a whole lot more than that right now, Doc…” I let out another sigh. “I really didn’t want to come back,” I admitted to the man who I thought of as a father-figure. “Chester convinced me that I’m too good at being a lawman to just up and quit.”

“And he’d be right…”

I sat up, looking straight at Doc. He held out an open ed envelope.

“You might be interested in this.”

I took the envelope, and I pulled out the letter. I was mildly surprised to see that, although it was from the War Department, it was addressed to Doc, not me.

“Go ahead,” Doc gently prompted. “Read it aloud.”

“Dear Doctor G. Adams. Thank you for advising us on your professional recommendation regarding the current situation concerning your patient, U.S. Marshal Matthew Dillon. We fully understand the emotional toll that being a lawman can take out of a man, and have therefore agreed with your recommendation to grant Marshal Dillon two weeks leave on full pay. Please advise us when you feel he’s capable of returning to work, or, should it be any longer than two weeks, advise us of that fact so we can organize a temporary replacement.”

Having read the contents of the letter aloud, I stared at Doc, confused.

“I don’t…understand…”

“Matt, I have a confession to make…”

I held my breath, waiting for Doc to continue.

“The reason why you never heard anything from Washington about your resignation was because they never received it. You see, Chester came to me with the telegram, because he was concerned about your state of mind. Now, before you go flying off the handle at Chester, you should know that he’s been deeply concerned about you. He came to me because he didn’t know what else to do. I took the telegram and told him I’d take care of it. I then sent a telegram to your superiors in Washington, advising them that, in my professional opinion, your were overworked and required a two week holiday to recover. The next day, I sent them a letter, detailing everything that had brought me to that conclusion. I told them all about Brand taunting you, and how his calling you a ‘butcher’ had shaken your confidence and your ability to do your job safely.”

I shook my head in disbelief, unsure of what to say next. Although I’d initially been angry at the start of Doc’s explanation, I couldn’t blame him for carrying out the course of action he’d taken. He’d only had my best interests at heart, and although I hadn’t seen it at the time, he knew I couldn’t simply walk away from the badge and expect things to just carry on the same.

Doc placed a hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, son, you’re not a butcher. You only kill when you have no other choice, and when you do, you do it quickly and cleanly. Most of those who are shot by you are dead instantly. I know you hate killing anyone, but you know your job, and you do it well. One day, I’m sure you’ll be ready to give up that badge, but now isn’t the time. Not this way. You’ll want to have good memories to look back on, not bad ones.”

I exhaled deeply. “I hear what you’re saying, Doc. And I just want to say… Thank you.”

Doc swiped his mustache. “Don’t thank me yet. Everyone’s waiting for you to take care of that Stanger fellow .”

“Yeah…”

I drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep my nerves under control. I couldn’t afford to let myself fall apart now.

After handing the letter back to Doc, I took my faithful pistol out of its holster, rotating the chamber to check that it was fully loaded. Then I stood up.

“Oh, before you go, Matt...” Doc said. He reached into his vest pocket. When he pulled his hand back out, he held it out towards me. Sitting in the palm of his hand was my badge. “You might need this.”

I didn’t hesitate to reach for my badge of office. Grimly, but with a strong sense of pride and duty, I returned the gleaming badge to its home over my heart.

“Looks good on ya,” Doc muttered, nodding his approval.

Bending down, I tied the bottom of my holster to my leg. “Is Stanger still at the Long Branch?”

“I believe so.”

“All right. See ya later, Doc.”

Setting my teeth, I strolled across the street, heading straight towards the Long Branch saloon. As I walked, I formulated a plan in my mind. Ideally, if I could take Stanger alive, I would. But if he gave me no other choice… I swallowed that thought.

Pausing at the swinging doors, I glanced over them to see what was going on inside the saloon. Fortunately, it was mostly empty. The first thing I saw was Linda’s bloodied body lying on the floor next to one of the tables. A couple of drunks were slumped at one of the tables near the back. My eyes then settled on Stanger, who was leaning against the bar with his back towards me. He was drinking from a bottle of whiskey. The barkeeper was standing behind the bar, nervously drying some glasses. Moving quietly, I entered the saloon.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to stay away for long, Dillon,” Stanger said as he turned to face me. Casually, he polished off the rest of the whiskey in his glass. He then pointed at my badge. “Thought you’d given that up?”

“I’ve put it back on so I can arrest you for murder.”

Stanger pretended to be impressed by raising his eyebrows. “That so?”

“Yeah, that’s so.” I gestured with my head towards Linda’s body. “Did that make you feel good? Gunning down a defenseless young woman like that?”

“She had it coming,” Stanger said with an indifferent shrug as he studied the empty glass he still held in his hand. “She slapped me first.”

“And you thought that justified murdering her in cold blood? You’re not a man. You’re lower than that.”

Stanger sneered. “What’s it matter to you anyway? She was nothing but a wh-.”

Infuriated, I backhanded Stanger before he could even finish saying that vile word. The force of my slap sent Stanger reeling against the bar, and he dropped the whiskey glass. It shattered into a thousand pieces near my left boot.

Before Stanger could gather himself back together, I reached around him and took his pistol from its holster. I aimed his own gun at him.

“Get moving, Stanger,” I ordered fiercely. “I normally don’t watch hangings, but yours will be a pleasure to watch!”

Stanger hesitated before he started to move towards the swinging doors, keeping one eye on me. Just when I thought he’d cooperate, Stanger snatched at his pistol, which I was still aiming at him. With his other hand, he attempted to punch me in the face. Seeing his fist coming, I ducked. Unfortunately, the movement caused my hand to contract, squeezing the trigger.

The gunshot resounded throughout the saloon and across the street. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if the bullet had missed my prisoner or not, but then I felt him sag heavily against me. I stepped back, allowing the hated man to slump lifelessly onto the floor.

I stood still, staring at the lifeless body that had been Stanger. Blood was already starting to pool on the dusty wooden floor next to him. I was so focused on watching the blood drain out of him that I didn’t hear Doc enter the saloon behind me.

“Matt? Are you all right?”

I flinched upon hearing his voice, but quickly regained my composure. “I’m all right, Doc. He’s dead.”

Nodding, Doc knelt to check that Stanger was indeed dead. It didn’t take him long to confirm it. Sighing, he stood and turned to face me.

“You sure you’re okay? I’m not just talking about physically, you know.”

I nodded as I finally understood what Doc was asking. I gestured with the pistol still clutched in my hand towards the dead man lying at my feet.

“Men like him are the reason why I became a lawman in the first place. It’s a shame he made me shoot him. He’s one man I’d have happily watched hang.”

Leaving Doc to take care of the bodies, I stepped outside for some fresh air. I was just in time to see Chester and Kitty arriving back in the buggy. Chester stopped the buggy outside the Long Branch.

“Mister Dillon?” Chester inquired as soon as he saw me. “What happened? Did you get Stanger?”

“Yeah, I got him all right, Chester. Unfortunately, he made me kill him. I wanted to take him alive if I could, so he could rot at the end of a rope.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Matt,” Kitty sympathized.

Reaching up, I helped Kitty climb down from the buggy.

“I’m sorry our picnic was interrupted, Kitty.”

“It’s all right, Matt. For once, it was justified. Linda didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“I don’t think you should go in there yet,” I said, nodding towards the Long Branch. “I’m afraid Linda’s body is still in there too.”

“Thanks for warning me, Matt. I wouldn’t care to step over Stanger, but poor Linda deserves some privacy and respect. I think I’ll go in the back way.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Kitty.”

I watched Kitty as she made her way down the alley next to the Long Branch. Chester shook his head sadly.

“If you ask me, Mister Dillon, it’s a crying shame when a sweet, young, innocent girl gets killed for defending herself against an animal like that there Stanger.”

Turning, I smiled grimly at my faithful assistant. “Chester? You’ve just said exactly what I’ve been thinking for the past ten minutes.”

“Yeah, well…” Unsure of what to say next, Chester fiddled with the lines.

“Well, we’d better get this buggy back to Moss Grimack before he decides to charge me extra. I only hired it for half a day. Oh, and, Chester?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For reminding me of how important my wearing this badge is to everyone who lives in Dodge. You’re quite a speech-maker when you need to be.”

“Oh, that weren’t nothin’, Mister Dillon. I just knowd how much you mean to everyone around here. Ya know, it ain’t the badge that’s important; it’s who’s wearing it that matters.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Chester. I couldn’t agree more…”

Chapter Text

I rarely fall ill. While many people might consider that to be a good thing, I sure don’t. You see, whenever I do get sick, it always hits me hard. Really hard. I believe the last time I was truly sick was during the war, when I came down with my first ever bout of ague. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the luxury of time for ill soldiers to rest and recover, especially from the ague. And so, I just did what every soldier did and fought through it, both literally and figuratively. Perhaps that’s what makes me refuse to rest on the rare occasions when I am ill. I view illness as an inconvenience to my work rather than as a chance to get some well-deserved rest and care. Naturally, Doc has a very different opinion about resting during illnesses. I don’t believe it’s something we’ll ever be able to agree on…

***

It all started one afternoon with a headache. Initially, I put the cause of it down to spending most of the day in my office, catching up on paperwork and, therefore, mild eye-strain. I’d had a lot of paperwork to do, since I’d spent the past three days traveling to and from Hays City to deliver a prisoner for hanging. I’d felt all right upon my return to Dodge City the previous afternoon, but now the headache was beginning to get to me.

Sighing heavily, I set down my nib pen so I could massage my throbbing temples. It was then that I realized that I was sweating. I rose from my desk, so I could get a dipper of water from the pail near the door. I’d drunk about half a cup when Chester entered my office.

“Mister Dillon? Miss Kitty asked me to fetch you.”

“Oh? What for?”

“She wants to know if you’ll join her for dinner at Delmonicos.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Is it that late already?”

“Well, no… But you know how Miss Kitty likes to make herself look extra nice for you an’ all.”

I rolled my eyes before dropping the dipper back into the pail. I didn’t feel very hungry; the headache having taken my appetite away. But ill or not, I wasn’t about to miss out on spending an evening with Kitty. I liked her a lot more than I cared to admit. We weren’t exactly courting; at least, I didn’t think we were. Our relationship at that point was more like that of a brother and sister. I collected my hat from its hook, and I left my office. Chester followed me like a faithful puppy.

“Chester, I get the feeling that Kitty just wants to have dinner with me alone,” I said as we crossed the street towards the Long Branch Saloon.

“Well, there ain’t no reason why I can’t have my dinner at another table,” Chester reasoned.

I couldn’t argue with that. As was my habit, I paused at the saloon’s swinging doors before going in, so I could see what was going on inside. I also liked to see what Kitty was doing. This time, she was seated at a table near the back of the room, playing a game of solitaire. Pushing the doors aside, I entered. Chester followed me as I made my way towards Kitty.

“Hello, Kitty,” I said when I reached her.

The beautiful redhead gazed up at me, blinking her stunning sapphire eyes. “Hello, Matt,” she greeted me warmly. “Take a seat. You too, Chester.”

“Well, thank you, Miss Kitty,” Chester said, taking the seat opposite me.

“Would you like a drink?” Kitty asked.

“Yeah, I’ll take a beer, thank you Miss Kitty,” Chester answered politely.

“How about you, Matt?”

“Oh, nothing for me, thanks Kitty,” I replied. Even the smell of alcohol was making my stomach feel queasy.

Kitty took another glance at me. “Is it hot outside?”

“Not particularly,” I answered. “Why do you ask?”

“You look hot.”

“Thanks.” I smirked, reflecting on the double entendre, before I added, “I was just about to say the same about you.”

Kitty’s eyes laughed, but the rest of her face showed concern. Chester wriggled uncomfortably, realizing that I was trying to flirt. He seemed unsure whether to stay or leave.

“Well, it sure is nice to see my three favorite people amusing themselves,” Doc said as he approached our table.

“Doc, I think you should take a look at Matt,” Kitty told him quickly. Too quickly for my liking.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?”

Doc looked down at me. Before Kitty could answer, he placed a hand on my forehead. His hand felt refreshingly cool.

“By golly, Matt! You’re burning up with a fever,” Doc diagnosed.

“I’m fine, Doc,” I attempted to reassure him, but my protest was in vain.

“Fine, my foot! You’d better come on up to my office so I can get a better look at you. Kitty? Save me a beer, will you?”

“Of course, Doc. Just take good care of Matt.”

“I will, Kitty. Come on, Matt.”

With a great deal of reluctance, I stood up. The movement caused my head to start pounding again, but I did my best to ignore it. My stomach also lurched in protest to my movement. Breathing deeply seemed to help settle my stomach. Grimacing, I pushed my hat back a little on my head as I followed Doc out of the saloon.

“Doc, I’m fine. Really. I’ve just got a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

“That as well as a fever, eh?” Doc swiped his mustache before looking up at me. “Any other symptoms you’d care to tell me about?”

I let out a tired sigh. Clearly, my chances of getting out of this mess were getting slimmer by the minute as my body betrayed how I was really feeling. All I wanted to do was to curl up in bed for a week, but I had too many responsibilities that I simply couldn’t shirk because of a fever and a headache.

Then, as if my body had decided to betray me even more, a wave of nausea hit my stomach like a tidal wave. Clasping a hand over my mouth, I darted into the closest alleyway, where I brought up the limited remains of my lunch behind some old wooden crates. I vomited twice more before my rebellious stomach finally settled back down. With a weary groan, I sat down on one of the crates while I recovered my breath. The bitter taste of bile and stomach juices filled my mouth and burned my throat, so I spat onto the ground. When I looked up, Doc was standing only a couple of feet from me. Judging from his expression, I knew he’d seen everything.

“Matt, if you say you’re fine one more time, by golly, I’ll have Chester and some other fellows drag you up to my office! Do yourself a favor and just admit it to yourself! You’re sick.”

I nodded slowly as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Yeah, Doc. I’m sick.”

“Come on, then,” Doc said, kindly helping me to my feet. “Let’s get you up to my office. You look like you could use a good lie down, if nothing else.”

Reluctantly, I followed Doc up the stairs to his office. Once inside, I tossed my hat down onto the chair beside the desk. Doc removed his coat and hung it up. He then poured some fresh water into a glass.

“Here. Rinse your mouth out.”

I accepted the glass and took a mouthful of water. Doc kicked a spittoon across the floor for me to use. After I’d rinsed the bile out of my mouth, I handed the glass back to Doc.

“Thanks.”

“Just sit down over there, and unbutton your shirt,” Doc instructed, gesturing towards the examination table. “I need to fetch a few things.”

I did as I was told, hoping that Doc wouldn’t take too long examining me. I still wanted to spend the evening with Kitty, if I could.

I was ready for Doc by the time he’d got himself organized. After putting on his glasses, he shook a thermometer several times before holding it up.

“Here, hold that under your tongue.”

I opened my mouth, so Doc could place the delicate instrument inside. Once I’d positioned the thermometer under my tongue, Doc checked my pulse.

“Hmm. Your pulse rate is a little fast,” Doc reported as he put his pocket watch away. Reaching up, he carefully took the thermometer out of my mouth.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Well, it means that you’re fighting an illness of some kind…” Doc frowned and shook his head slightly as he read the thermometer. Then he gazed back up at me. “You feeling tired? Because you sure look it.”

“To tell you the truth, Doc, I’m so tired, I could sleep for a week.”

“You probably will if you have what I think you have. Guess I don’t really need to ask if you’re feeling nauseous?”

I shook my head. “Doc? I think I’m gonna throw up again…”

Before I’d even finished speaking, Doc had grabbed a metal bucket out from beneath the examination table. He held it up to me just in time. However, this time, I only brought up some water and more bile.

“You done?” Doc asked as my retching subsided.

“Yeah... I think so, Doc.”

Doc placed the pail back beneath the table, where he could grab it again at short notice. Wearily, I leaned forwards, taking care not to sway so much that I tumbled off the table. Doc studied me thoughtfully before going over to the medicine cabinet.

“Matt, I’m gonna give you a dose of medicine, and then I want you to get some sleep.”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with me, or not?” I asked.

“I’m gonna tell you…” Doc muttered, tugging on his ear.

Doc took out a bottle containing an amber colored liquid. He carried it over to his desk, where I watched him add a measured dose of the medicine to the glass of water I’d used to rise my mouth. He brought it over to me.

“Drink that, and then I’ll tell you my diagnosis.”

I took a cautious sip. Judging from the bitter taste, I immediately knew both what medicine Doc was giving to me, and what was wrong with me.

“I’ve got the ague, haven’t I, Doc?”

Doc nodded. “You ever had it before?”

“Yeah. During the war…” Grimacing, I downed the rest of the diluted quinine before handing the empty glass back to Doc.

“You weren’t the only one,” Doc muttered grimly. He set the glass down on a nearby bench. “Matt, I want you to stay here tonight, so I can keep an eye on you. I’m not only concerned about the vomiting. I’m also worried about your fever. It’s already at a hundred and two, and if it goes any higher, well…”

“You think it will?”

Doc swiped his mustache thoughtfully. “Whether it does or not, I don’t want you to be alone. You understand?”

“Sure, Doc.”

While I hated to admit it, I was feeling worse by the minute. Curling up on a nice soft bed was growing in its appeal. Feebly, I got down off the examination table and I stumbled over to the cot beside the window. Doc, seeing that I was ready to lie down and sleep, pulled back the blanket. He kindly helped me pull off my boots. I removed my gun belt, handing it to Doc for safekeeping.

Finally, I lay down, resting my pounding head on the soft pillow. Doc placed a damp cloth on my forehead to help ease the fever. I’d just closed my eyes when someone knocked on the door. Doc was quick to answer it.

“Oh, hello, Kitty. Chester. Come on in.”

“We won’t stay long, Doc,” Kitty said. “We were just worried about Matt.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. He’s down with a bout of ague. I’m surprised it didn’t take much to convince him to stay the night, considering the fuss he made about coming up here to my office.”

I listened to Kitty’s soft footsteps as she approached the cot. I could sense her leaning over me, studying me anxiously.

“Doc, would you like me to stay and help you with him?” Kitty offered.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, Kitty, but I’m not sure… You need to work, don’t you?”

“I can afford to take the night off if it means getting Matt well again. Besides, I’m sure Matt won’t mind having a nurse. Chester, would you mind telling Bill Pence that I won’t be at work tonight?”

“ ‘Course, Miss Kitty. Be glad to.”

“Oh, and you can tell him that I said to let you have a drink on the house.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Kitty!”

I heard the door close as Chester left on his errand. Then there was the sound of scratching wood as Doc brought over a chair for Kitty to sit on. I felt Doc curl his fingers around my right wrist, checking my pulse again.

“How serious is it, Doc?” Kitty asked anxiously.

“Well, he’s been vomiting and he has a hundred and two fever, but I think we’ve managed to catch it early enough for it to not be too serious. I’ve seen some pretty bad cases of ague before. Fortunately, Matt’s symptoms are on the mild side. Reckon he’ll be down for a least a week though, maybe longer. I’ll fetch some more water. We need to focus on getting that fever down so he can rest.”

Once I was sure Doc had stepped out of the room, I opened my eyes a slit. Kitty was seated next to the cot, staring anxiously down at me. She looked positively stunning. I swallowed.

“Kitty? I’m sorry about dinner…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Matt! I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well when I asked Chester to fetch you.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well that you did…”

Feeling a dry cough rising in my chest, I attempted to sit up. Doc returned just as a coughing fit threatened to overwhelm me. He handed Kitty a jug of water before snatching the pillow off the examination table and adding it to the one I already had.

“Here, Matt. Sitting up a bit should help you breathe easier,” Doc explained.

I nodded my thanks before settling back down to try and get some sleep. Kitty stroked my hair soothingly as I drifted off to sleep.

***

Despite sleeping soundly for the first few hours, I spent a mostly restless night. My fever peaked at a hundred and three, causing me to sweat and pant heavily. At least, now that my stomach was empty, the nausea had subsided somewhat. Kitty stayed with me until shortly after midnight, bathing my forehead with cold water, and making me sip water at regular intervals. When Doc got up to relieve Kitty, I vaguely remember hearing them arguing for a couple of minutes about who should stay up with me. Eventually Doc won out.

“Kitty…” I whispered, reaching for her slender hand as, through half open eyes, I watched her disappear into the back room to rest on Doc’s bed.

“She needs to sleep now, Matt,” Doc told me kindly. “And so do you. Anyway, let’s see how you’re going now…”

“It’s so cold,” I whimpered, shivering.

“It’s the fever,” Doc explained. He touched my forehead. “You’re still burning up.”

“How can I be freezing cold and burning up at the same time?”

“That’s just how fevers work.”

“Can I have another blanket, Doc?”

Doc shook his head. “Sorry, Matt. You’re lucky I’m even letting you keep that one. Here. I want you to try and drink some water for me. Just a little, mind you, and sip it slowly so you don’t bring it back up.”

I managed to sit up a bit, supporting my weary body on my elbows. Doc pressed a glass of water to my lips. Despite Doc’s warning, I drank greedily, ignoring the shock of the cold water in my throat and stomach. I hadn’t realized just how thirsty I really was.

“All right,” Doc said, taking the near-empty glass away. “That’ll do for now.”

“I’m still thirsty,” I complained. Before I could stop it, a wave of coughs hit me. I winced as the coughing fit finally subsided after a couple of minutes. Coughing made my entire body ache. In fact, any movement did.

Doc glanced at his pocket watch. “Well, you’re about due for another dose of quinine. Y ou can have some more water after you’ve taken the medicine.”

I could barely suppress my urge to groan. While Doc was preparing the medicine for me, my body suddenly changed from feeling too cold, to feeling too hot. I kicked the blanket off, panting heavily from the effort.

Doc returned to my side. “Feeling the heat of the fever now, huh?”

“Yeah...” I muttered before taking the glass of diluted quinine from him. I was so desperate for more to drink that I drained the glass in just a couple of gulps. Doc couldn’t mask his surprise as I handed the empty glass back to him. “Doc, please… I’m really thirsty…”

“Clearly.”

With a bemused chuckle, Doc refilled the glass with fresh water. He handed it back to me, watching as I drank it down a little slower this time.

“Had enough?” Doc asked as I handed the glass back to him.

“Yeah, thanks. Guess I’ll try and get some more sleep now…”

I settled back down on the pillows, sweat pouring off my face once again. After setting the glass down on his desk, Doc returned to my side. He put on his stethoscope so he could listen to my heart and lungs. I began coughing again. I’m not sure if that helped or hindered Doc’s examination of me; he just listened to me cough with a blank expression. Finally, after drawing in a ragged breath, the coughing subsided. I drew in several deep breaths to recover.

“Rest easy now, Matt,” Doc soothed as he’d finished his examination. He removed his stethoscope, placing it aside before soaking a cloth with cold water and placing it on my forehead.

I closed my eyes. Knowing that I was safe in Doc’s care, sleep came upon me mercifully quick.

***

I’d never seen a more beautiful place. I was standing in an open field, filled with fresh knee-high green grass and white daisies. The field was flanked on opposite sides by dense woods. In the far distance, a purple mountain range seemed to reach up so high it appeared to be touching the cloudless blue sky.

“Matt!”

Turning, I saw Kitty. She was wearing a stunning emerald green dress made of shimmering stain and lace. It was one of my favorite dresses for her to wear, because it made her red hair and sapphire blue eyes even more startling. As I watched, Kitty crouched to gather a bouquet of daisies. I took a step towards her.

“Kitty! I’m over here!”

Kitty looked up, smiling her most beautiful smile. But then, her countenance changed. She appeared frightened.

“Kitty? What is it?”

Instead of answering, Kitty dropped her bouquet and started running away from me. Her green skirt billowed out behind her as she ran. I was quick to follow her.

“Kitty! Wait!”

Somehow, despite being a lot shorter than me, Kitty managed to stay well ahead and out of reach. I tried to run faster through the field, but some unseen force kept holding me back. A dark shadow fell over me. Glancing up, I saw dark storm clouds gathering overhead.

Kitty’s shrill scream froze me in my tracks. I looked around frantically, but was unable to see her anymore.

“Kitty? Kitty! KITTY!” I screamed desperately. My voice seemed to echo for miles.

There was no answer. I bolted over to where I’d last seen her. When I arrived, my heart caught in my throat. There was a perfectly cylindrical hole in the ground; over twenty feet wide. Straining my neck, I looked down, hoping to see Kitty lying not too far down. My hopes were in vain. The pit appeared to be bottomless.

“Kitty!” I shouted. “Where are you?”

Something, or someone, pushed my right shoulder. I lost my balance and, despite grasping wildly for a handhold, I tumbled into that terrible, dark bottomless pit.

“No!” I screamed. “No! Nooooo! Kitty!”

“Matt!”

“No!” I continued screaming even while the pitch darkness enveloped me.

“Matt! Matt! Wake up!”

The familiar, masculine voice calling my name was so loud in my ear, I jumped awake with a frightened yelp. Instinctively, my right hand searched for my Colt pistol against my hip. Not finding it, and feeling quite dazed, I blinked open my eyes. As the dark chasm vanished, it was replaced by Doc’s dimly lit outer office. I was sitting up on the cot, panting heavily, completely drenched in sweat and water.

“Well, it’s about time you snapped out of it!” Doc said from where he was seated beside me. His tone was both gruff and concerned. He took out his pocket watch with one hand, and with the other, he curled his fingers around my right wrist to check my pulse. “You’ve been making enough noise for the past ten minutes to wake all of Dodge!”

I continued panting heavily, trying to catch my breath. Doc snapped his pocket watch closed before slipping it back into his pocket.

“That must’ve been some nightmare! Heard you calling for Kitty a couple of times. Reckon your pulse will be racing for a good few minutes yet. Gunfight?”

I shook my head. “Worse. Way worse…”

“I see… Well, you don’t have to tell me about it. Here. I’ll fetch you some water.”

“Thanks, Doc.” I swallowed some saliva before glancing out of the window beside the cot. It was pitch black outside, save for the streetlights. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days,” Doc answered as he poured some water into a glass.

“Two days?”

“That’s right. The fever’s had a good hold of you. I’m hoping it’ll finally break before dawn.”

Doc carried the glass of water over to me. I attempted to take hold of it, but my hands were trembling too much. Seeing my dilemma, Doc held the glass up to my lips.

“Sip it slowly,” Doc instructed.

I did so, although I was terribly thirsty. It took me a couple of minutes, but I drained the glass.

“There now,” Doc soothed as he put the empty glass aside. “Lie down and try to rest. I’ll prepare a dose of quinine for you.”

I let out a tired sigh as I lay down on the pillows. Doc picked up the damp cloth that had slipped off me when I’d woken abruptly from my nightmare. He tossed it onto a pile of other cloths and towels that were waiting to be washed.

“Doc? Where’s Kitty?”

“Sent her back to the Long Branch. She’s been sitting up with you during the day. I told her I’d let her know when your fever broke.”

While Doc was talking, I did a self-assessment on how I was feeling. My fever was still raging, causing me to sweat profusely, and my joints and muscles ached terribly. At least my headache had eased. However, I did feel something that needed taking care of urgently. Groaning, I sat up again, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

“And just where do you think you’re going, Mister Marshal?” Doc demanded to know.

“I, uh… I just need to use a chamber pot…”

“It’s where it always is,” Doc answered. “Under the wash stand.”

He turned his back to me, giving me a bit of privacy while I relieved myself. When I was done, I washed my hands and splashed some water over my face before returning to the cot.

Once I was settled, Doc returned to my side with a glass containing a dose of diluted quinine. I frowned when I saw the amber-colored liquid.

“I don’t want anymore medicine, Doc…”

“You may not want it, but it’s what you’re gonna get, whether you like it or not!”

Doc held the glass up to my lips. With trepidation, I took a small sip, which caused me to grimace. Doc snorted.

“By golly, I think you are getting better! You only ever take medicine willingly when you either think you’re at death’s door, or when you’re so miserable you simply don’t care what I do to you! Now quit your stalling, and drink it. Go on! Do as I say, and drink it!”

Closing my eyes, I did my best to gulp down the medicine quickly. Doc swiped his mustache thoughtfully. He studied me for a moment before setting the empty glass aside.

“Well, young man... And just what are we gonna do with you for the rest of the night?”

“Why don’t we play a game of checkers?” I suggested.

Doc shook his head. “I want you resting, Matt, not playing games.” He pressed a hand to my sweaty forehead. “Besides, the way that fever’s got a hold of you, I’d beat you anyway.”

“Yeah, right!” I scoffed.

Unfortunately for me, Doc didn’t take the bait.

“Try and get some more rest. I’m going to do some reading.”

I rolled over onto my right-hand side, tucking my hands under the pillow. After selecting a book from his bookcase, Doc settled back down in the chair next to the cot. Although I wanted to sleep, the fever prevented me. I lay quietly for about ten minutes, but with sleep not forthcoming, I decided to strike up a conversation.

“Doc?”

“Hmm? Thought you’d be asleep by now, Matt…” Doc said without looking up from his book.

“I can’t sleep. Doc, why does medicine taste so horrible?”

“It’s to stop people like Chester from swallowing it like soda water.”

“Oh… Well, couldn’t some medicines be made to taste nice?”

“Then they wouldn’t be medicines now, would they? Matt? Do me a favor, and try to sleep. You need it, and I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“Right, of course. Sorry, Doc.”

“That’s all right…”

Silence descended upon the room. My fever turned into a chill, so I pulled the blanket up from my feet to try and stay warm. After I’d settled, I stared wistfully up at Doc.

“Doc?”

“Hmm? What do you need, Matt?”

“I was just wondering why people get chills when they have a fever?”

“It’s because the body is trying to kill off an infection, and by shivering you make yourself hotter. Heat kills infections.”

“Oh. So, why do you try to get rid of a fever then, if it’s doing something good?”

“Because too much heat can kill a man. You’d cook from the inside. It’s about finding a balance.”

The silence descended again while I pondered Doc’s answers.

“Doc?”

Frustrated, Doc slammed the book closed and he tossed it onto the examination table. He sighed heavily as he removed his glasses.

“What is it now, Matt?”

“I was wondering… Do you enjoy being a doctor?”

That question seemed to stump him. Tenderly, he brushed aside a lock of hair that had tumbled down over my left eye.

“Well, I enjoy helping people,” Doc finally said. “Nothing pleases me more than seeing someone recover from an illness or injury.”

“But you hate it when someone dies, don’t you?” I prompted.

“I hate it just as much as you hate killing someone. But being a doctor is still worthwhile. One minute I might be operating on someone to save their life, and the next I’m helping a young, frightened mother give birth to her first child.”

I let out a tired sigh. “I wish I could get that same fulfillment from my job…”

“Oh, you do, Matt. I’ve seen how happy you are whenever you’re able to let an innocent person walk free. They’re able to get a second chance at life. You know, we’ve discussed before just how similar our jobs are.”

“Yeah…” I whispered. My eyelids were finally starting to droop. Doc pressed a hand to my forehead.

“You know what, Matt? I reckon that fever of yours has just about broken.”

“Good… I’m so… tired…”

I closed my eyes and this time I finally managed to drift off to sleep.

***

Kitty’s sweet, melodic voice roused me many hours later.

“Doc? When is he going to wake up?”

“I told you before, Kitty. He’ll wake up when he’s ready,” Doc answered. I felt him place a warm hand on my forehead. “The ague really took a lot out of him. Left him physically exhausted.”

“I know… But I thought he’d be all right once the fever broke.”

Doc removed his hand. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Kitty. He’ll be out of action for a few more days at least.”

“That’s what you think,” I muttered as I blinked open my eyes. The first thing I saw was Kitty seated beside the cot. Doc was standing, leaning over me.

“Well, now,” Doc said, a small smile on his lips. “And just how long have you been awake, listening to us?”

“Long enough…” I grunted as I attempted to sit up. The movement made me cough several times.

“Well, if you think you’re well enough to get up, you can think again!” Doc snapped, doing his best to push me back down onto the pillows.

“Matt,” Kitty began. “You’d better do what Doc says. If he says you need a few more days of bed rest, then you’d better do that. You wouldn’t want to relapse.”

I glanced up at Doc. “Is that likely?”

“It is if you don’t give yourself time to fully recover. Kitty? Why don’t you heat up some of that broth you brought over. I’m sure Matt will appreciate some nourishment now, seeing as he hasn’t eaten for the past few days.”

“I also brought some of that stew you like,” Kitty told me as she stood up. “But Doc thinks you should have the broth first. See if it whets your appetite.”

I looked down at the blanket tucked around my chest. “He’s probably right…”

Doc snorted. “Only ‘probably’? Matt, you know I’m right. I’m always right.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered indifferently. Lifting the blanket, I rolled over onto my back, before settling back down on the pillows. Much as I hated to admit it, staying in bed and sleeping still seemed pretty good to me.

Doc moved over to his desk. He opened his medical bag, checking the contents. “Kitty, I have a few house calls I need to make this afternoon. Do you think you’ll be all right looking after Matt while I’m gone?”

“Of course, Doc. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Glancing over her shoulder, Kitty winked at me.

“Make sure he keeps drinking, and try and get him to eat. Don’t worry if he doesn’t want too much right now. I want him to take another dose of quinine after he’s had some of that broth. I’ll leave a dose of sleeping powder for him too, just in case. He probably won’t need it, but you’ll have it if he does. Aside from that, just make sure he rests. Don’t let him get out of that bed.”

“I won’t, Doc. And don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Matt. Off you go now.”

Doc pulled on his jacket and hat. “Matt? Promise me, you’ll at least try and behave yourself while I’m gone.”

“All right, Doc,” I muttered in agreement. I felt too tired to do anything but behave.

With that reassurance, Doc collected his medical bag, and he left. Kitty brought a small bowl of broth over to me.

“Here you go, Matt. Try and drink as much as you can.”

I shook my head. “Kitty, please. I’m really not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten a thing in three days. You should be hungry.”

“Well, I’m not. I’d rather just sleep…”

“Why don’t you just try a bit, and then see how you feel? Please, Matt. You know I won’t leave you alone until you’ve had some of it.”

Kitty’s persistent pleas were wearing me down.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

Kitty nodded. Sighing heavily, I propped myself up a little more on the pillows, so I was lying in a reclining position. Kitty dipped a spoon into the broth, and she held it up to my mouth. Cautiously, I took a small sip.

“You can do better than that, Matt.”

“Kitty, I just want to sleep…”

“I know you do, Matt, but just have a few mouthfuls first. You don’t want me to have to tell Doc that you refused to eat. You know he won’t be pleased.”

“I’m not worried about Doc.”

“You should be. Come on, Matt. Please. For me.”

Reluctantly, I opened my mouth wide enough for Kitty to begin spoon feeding me properly.

“That’s better, Cowboy,” Kitty teased. “Now, be a good boy and swallow this next spoonful…”

I stared at Kitty as she continued to spoon feed me the broth. She was so beautiful…

“Matt? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m just admiring the view. I must say, you’re the prettiest nurse I’ve ever had…”

Kitty’s cheeks flushed pink. “You keep saying things like that, and I’ll tell Doc that you’re delirious now too.”

“I’m always delirious whenever I see you,” I whispered flirtatiously.

“Matthew Dillon! Do you always court women from your sickbed?”

“Not as a rule. But I’d court you no matter where we are...”

“Now, Matt,” Kitty said firmly. “None of that nonsense. You need to keep drinking this broth.”

I turned my head away from the pro-offered spoon. “I’ve had enough. Can I sleep again now? Please?”

“Just one more spoonful, followed by your medicine, and then you can rest.”

I let Kitty give me one more spoonful of broth and the dose of quinine, before I finally settled back down to sleep. She tenderly brushed the curls off my forehead.

“Sleep well, Matt. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

Doc returned around sundown. I was lying quietly, half-awake with my eyes closed, when I heard him come in. Kitty looked up from the book she’d been reading.

“Good evening, Doc. How’d you go?”

“Oh, not too bad. How’s Matt been?”

“Quiet. He’s been asleep for most of the afternoon.”

I heard Doc’s familiar footfalls as he approached the cot. He felt my forehead before checking my pulse.

“He took his medicine, and I managed to get him to drink about half a cup of broth,” Kitty explained while Doc examined me. “I know it’s not much, but I had a hard time getting that much into him.”

“You did fine, Kitty,” Doc reassured her. “Just fine. I reckon one more night, resting here should do it, providing his appetite returns by tomorrow.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“It will, Kitty. The way he eats, believe me, it will.”

Sleepily, I blinked open my eyes. “Doc, I want to return to work tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you do, but you won’t,” Doc told me firmly. “Matt, I don’t think you realize just how sick you’ve been. This isn’t a head or chest cold. You’re not just going to bounce back from this.”

“Well, I’ll try getting up tomorrow morning, and if I’m still feeling all right by evening, you can walk my rounds with me.”

“Well, that’s mighty generous of you!” Doc replied sarcastically. Swiping his mustache, he turned his attention back to Kitty. “Why don’t you heat up some of that stew? If he eats that now, I might consider letting him play a game of checkers with me later.”

Kitty set about heating up the stew for me. While she was doing that, Doc took the opportunity to examine me again. I watched curiously as he listened to my heart and lungs with his stethoscope.

“Breathe in and hold it,” Doc instructed.

I did so. However, I wasn’t able to hold my breath for more than a few seconds before I needed to cough. Doc frowned.

“Try again, Matt.”

I did. This time, I was able to hold my breath until Doc told me to release it. We repeated the same exercise with my other lung. Doc removed his stethoscope.

“Well?” I asked impatiently.

“Well, you’re a darn sight better than you were yesterday, but you’re far from being fully recovered. I’m concerned that if you push yourself too hard, too fast, you’ll relapse.”

“I’ll be careful, Doc,” I said, doing my best to sound reassuring. “I know how far I can push myself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I really don’t want you pushing yourself at all, Matt.”

A strange buzzing sound filled my ears. I’d heard that sound before, but I couldn’t remember the fancy name Doc had called it. I shook my head slightly, trying to eliminate the annoying sound.

“Stew’s ready,” Kitty announced.

The buzzing sound eased as I sat up. Kitty brought a steaming hot plate of stew over to me. I swung my legs over the edge of the cot before I carefully took the plate, and a fork, from her.

“Be careful, Matt,” Kitty warned. “It’s hot.”

“I will. Thanks, Kitty.”

Although my appetite hadn’t yet returned, I would do almost anything to get out of Doc’s care and back to work as soon as possible. I took a tentative mouthful of stew, silently praying that I’d be able to keep it down.

After I’d swallowed a few mouthfuls, I finally began to feel hungry. I ate the rest of the stew steadily, which seemed to please Kitty and Doc.

“I guess I’d better go and get ready for work,” Kitty said as I was finishing. She placed a caring hand on my shoulder. “I’m so glad to see you feeling better now, Matt, but please listen to Doc. He knows what’s best for you.”

I pouted in response. Kitty laughed heartily.

“You make me melt when you pull that face! Mind yourself now. I’ll be back tomorrow. Good night, Matt. Doc.”

“Night, Kitty,” Doc and I replied in unison.

Once Kitty had gone, Doc took my now empty plate from me.

“You fancy having anything else to eat?”

“I wouldn’t mind a heel of bread if you have one.”

Doc kindly fetched one for me. I leaned back against the wall while I nibbled on the bread.

“Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“Didn’t you mention something about a game of checkers if I ate my dinner?”

Doc swiped his mustache. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? Well, I need to grab a bite to eat myself, but if you’re still awake after I get back from Delmonico’s, we can play a game then, all right?”

“Sounds good to me, Doc.”

***

Although I wasn’t quite asleep by the time Doc returned, I was too tired to concentrate on checkers, and so Doc and I mutually agreed to abandon the notion of playing a game that night.

I slept well, awaking around nine o’clock the next morning. Doc had been called away on an emergency around six, but he’d left a note for me. With nobody around to stop me, I pulled on my boots and collected my hat and gun belt from the hat stand. I then left Doc’s office, hoping nobody would notice me as I made my way into the back alleys. Being somewhat self-conscious about my appearance when in public, I didn’t want anyone to see me before I’d had a chance to shave and change into a fresh set of clothes.

I entered my office through the back door. Finding it deserted, I set about changing and cleaning myself up. I’d just finished shaving when Chester entered.

“Oh! Good morning, Mister Dillon. I wasn’t expecting you to be back at work so soon.”

“Officially, I’m not.”

“You’re not? Then, what are you doing here?”

“Doc made the mistake of leaving me alone,” I explained, grinning mischievously as I dabbed my face dry with a small towel.. “No doubt he’ll give me a mouthful once he gets back and finds me here instead of in his office.”

“Oh, forevermore, Mister Dillon! You should know better than that!”

I chuckled before going over to my desk to check the mail. “Anything interesting happen while I was sick?”

“Nothin’ I couldn’t handle, sir.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

I glanced up at my assistant. “Handle it?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure!”

I glanced back down at my mail. “That’s fine then, Chester…” Coming across a new wad of circulars, I opened the envelope. However, before I could even begin to look through them, the front door swung open and Doc stormed in.

“Matt! By thunder, I just knew I’d find you here! What the hell do you think you’re doing? I haven’t discharged you yet, you know?”

“I know that, Doc,” I retorted. “I just wanted to freshen up, have a bite to eat, and then I’ll get some more rest.”

Doc softened a little. “Oh, you did, huh? Well, you could’ve asked me first.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

“I think he’s got ya there, Doc!” Chester said, chuckling.

“Why don’t you shut up?” Doc turned his attention back to me. “Matt? Let’s go have breakfast. If you eat everything you order, I’ll release you from my care.”

“That sounds fair to me, Doc,” I agreed.

***

I wasn’t quite able to eat all my breakfast, but I was able to eat all of my lunch, which satisfied Doc enough to let me leave his care. However, he sternly warned me not to return to work until he was satisfied that I wouldn’t relapse.

Despite that, Doc caught me making my regular rounds later that evening. He was just descending the stairs to his office when he saw me.

“Matt!” Doc snapped, causing me to pause on the boardwalk opposite his office. I watched Doc as he crossed the street to join me. “Thought I told you not to return to work yet?”

“I wanted to get some fresh air, and I figured I may as well do my rounds too,” I explained, tucking my thumbs into my gun belt.

“Oh, you figured, huh? Matt…”

I held up a hand to stop Doc from saying more. “Doc, I slept for four hours this afternoon. I swear, I haven’t done anything else aside from reading my mail.”

Frustrated, but unable to think of anything else to say, Doc grunted as he swiped his mustache.

“You wanna walk with me?” I invited.

“Guess I’d better. Someone needs to try and catch you if you pass out.”

I started to chuckle, but it quickly turned into a cough. After I’d coughed several times, I felt my lungs settle down again. I pressed a hand against my chest as Doc shook his head.

“Matt…”

“I’m fine, Doc.”

Doc rolled his eyes. “I seem to recall that, after the last time you said that, you vomited. Matt, I’m all for you getting some fresh air, but I’d rather see you resting right now.”

“Well, I can’t deny I wouldn’t mind sitting down for a bit,” I agreed. “My old war wound has been playing up a bit today.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem with getting older. Your body starts to remind you of that fact on a daily basis.”

“Speak for yourself, Doc!”

“No, it’s true, Matt. You wait another ten years or more, and you’ll start to feel every broken bone, and every bullet wound… Believe me, you won’t be laughing then!”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see then, won’t we?”

Walking side-by-side, Doc and I made our way down Front Street. As we walked, I continued scanning the street, instinctively searching for any hints of brewing trouble. Not seeing any, I let Doc subtly guide me back to my office.

“Here, why don’t we just sit down here a little while?” Doc suggested, directing me towards the chairs on the boardwalk outside my office.

“Okay…” I agreed.

“...Take it easy, and just watch the street…”

We sat down. I grimaced as I shifted my right leg, giving it a little rub as I did so to try and ease the ache and stiffness. Sometimes, it felt like the musket ball was still in there, even though I knew it wasn’t.

“...You look better sitting down than standing up anyway,” Doc finished.

I let out a tired sigh. “Well, I tell you, Doc, it feels better, that’s for sure.” I leaned forwards, resting my elbows on my knees.

“Well, you kinda had a rough attack of the ague there,” Doc sympathized. “You’re gettin’ over it pretty fast.”

I rubbed my forehead, sighing tiredly again. “I still feel all raveled out, Doc,” I confessed.

“Yeah,” Doc agreed, nodding.

“And, boy, I feel short tempered too!”

Doc smiled sympathetically. “Oh well. Fever... Ague... Always leaves anybody short tempered and outta sorts.”

The buzzing sound in my ears returned. I gave my left ear a rub to try and stop it. “Wish I could get over that roaring in my ears…”

Doc chuckled. “Well, that’s quinine I gave you. That’s what did that.”

I was about to ask him to explain what he meant, when a young man mounted on a sorrel horse rode over.

“Marshal Dillon?”

“Yeah?”

The young man removed his hat. “You don’t know me, Marshal, but I’ve seen you around lots of times. My name’s Jake Buley.” He nodded at Doc. “I’ve seen him around too. Hello, Doc.”

“Yeah! Hello there!”

Buley returned his attention to me. “I met Chester too. He’s a friend of yours, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, he sure is,” I answered, wishing he’d get straight to the point. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I uh…” Buley paused to scratch his head. “...I thought you might be in the market for a good horse, Marshal.”

I wasn’t. I had Buck and my spare horse, a bay gelding. I couldn’t really afford to own anymore horses than that. “Now, it’d have to be a real good one,” I said, hoping that’d send Buley on his way. It didn’t.

“That’s what I do. Ride around the country looking for extra good horses. Don’t make much profit off of them, but keeps me from workin’ steady.”

That comment made me chuckle. I cast a glance at Doc, hoping he’d take the hint that I needed his help to get rid of this man. Doc didn’t seem to notice my silent plea, so I looked back at Buley.

“Well, I don’t often buy horses, Buley. Not even good ones.”

Buley leaned on his saddle horn. “You like buckskins?”

“Yeah…”

“I got a good one down at the stable. It ain’t no ordinary animal, Marshal.”

Seeing that I wouldn’t get any help from Doc, I decided to give Buley a stronger hint to leave me alone.

“I’m a little under the weather tonight, Buley. If I feel better in the morning, I’ll go down and take a look at him.”

Finally, Buley seemed to take the hint. He sat up straight again. “Oh, fine. Fine.”

“Say, Buley?” Doc began. “Do you do pretty good, going around the country that way?”

“Not too bad. Without cheating nobody too much either. Well, I’ll look for you tomorrow, Marshal.”

“All right.”

Buley rode away back down Front Street. I let out another sigh; this time it was a sigh of relief.

“Well, Doc… I think I’ll go on in and try and get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yes! It’ll do you good,” Doc agreed as we stood up. “I tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m going down to the Long Branch and have myself a little drink before I turn in.”

“Good. Have one for me, will ya?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Goodnight,” I said as I opened the door to my office.

“Goodnight.”

Doc wandered off as I entered my office. I’d decided to sleep in there tonight, just in case I had a relapse. Then I could send Chester to fetch Doc.

I hung my hat on its peg. Moving across the room, I unbuckled my gun belt. After hanging it on the peg near my cot, I sat down on the cot so I could remove my boots. I’d just removed my left boot when the door opened and Kitty entered.

“Matt? You’d better come to the Long Branch. Doc sent me to fetch you.”

I’d already started pulling my boot back on. “Why? What’s happened?”

“It’s Chester. He’s drunk and flirting with Nita Tucker. We’re worried about what Ned Pickard will do to him.”

While Kitty was speaking, I’d buckled my gun belt back around my hips. “Let’s go, Kitty,” I said as I grabbed my hat. Kitty closed the door behind us.

I walked as quickly as I could across the street towards the Long Branch Saloon. Kitty almost had to run just to keep up with me. When I arrived at the saloon, I peeked over the swinging doors to see what was going on.

What I saw was Chester and Pickard standing in front of the bar, facing each other, with Doc doing his best to keep the two men separated. Nita Tucker stood near Chester, while Jim Dobie, the proprietor of the Dodge House, stood near Ned Pickard.

“...Now hadn’t you better go and sober up?” I heard Dobie saying.

“Sure…” Pickard sneered. “Soon as I’ve put a hole in Chester here…”

I chose that moment to enter. “Hold it!”

Pickard scowled at me. “What are you doing here?”

“Looks to me like I’m stopping a fight.”

“I ain’t gonna fight you.”

That was good, because I didn’t feel well enough to fight anyone that night. “All right, then give me your gun.”

“Sure…” Pickard removed his pistol from his gun belt and tossed it onto a nearby table. “I ain’t that drunk.”

Not wishing to deal with the prisoner while I still was still recovering from my illness, I picked up Pickard’s gun and handed it to Chester. “Chester? Lock him up.”

“Now wait, Marshal…” Pickard began to protest.

“Chester wasn’t even armed!” I snapped, my short temper due to being ill finally coming out for all to hear. Drawing in a deep breath to try and calm myself, I turned to Chester. “All right, take him out the back way and down the alley.”

“Yeah…”

“If there ain’t gonna be no fight, might as well go to bed,” a cowboy at the bar muttered, disappointed. He started to head for the swinging doors.

“You can’t put me in jail,” Pickard protested. “I ain’t done nothing!”

“Mister, I’m doing you a favor puttin’ you in jail,” I growled, narrowing my eyes at him.

“The Marshal’s right, Ned!” Dobie interjected.

“All right…” Pickard relented. “Wait till I get sober… Wait till tomorrow… You’ll see what I’ll do to you.”

“You’re not gonna do anything to anybody,” I told him sternly. “Chester?”

“Yeah?”

“Get him outta here.”

“All right, I’ll follow ya…” Chester pointed Pickard’s own pistol at him, directing him towards the saloon’s back door.

“Next time, you won’t be so lucky, Chester.”

“Oh, Pickard, you’ll forget all about it in the mornin’.”

“Sure, I’ll forget… when you’re in your grave.”

Reluctantly, Pickard turned and made his way out the back door. Chester followed him. I let out a tired sigh as Doc stepped over to me.

“Well, now that you’re here, I recommend a drink. For you, not me. I’m going to bed.”

Smiling, I patted Doc on the left shoulder as he walked past me. “Goodnight, Doc.” I then went over to the bar. The barkeeper, having heard what Doc said to me, poured me a shot of whiskey. Jim Dobie joined me at the bar.

“Good thing you came when you did, Marshal,” Dobie remarked.

“Yeah… Kitty figured there might be trouble around here tonight.”

“Oh, I’m all on the side of law and order in this town, you know that.”

“Well, I guess as many times as they’ve shot up your hotel, you’d have to be, huh?”

“That’s right. And you know something, Marshal? This Ned can be one of the meanest.”

“Well, I’ll just keep him in jail until he gets over it.”

“Yes, but you can’t keep him there forever.”

At that precise moment, everyone inside the Long Branch heard a pistol shot coming from outside in the back alleyway. I was the first to react, hurrying out the back door, pistol drawn. A small crowd followed me as I wandered into the alley, searching for the source of the gunshot.

Hearing Chester groan, I rounded a corner to find Chester slumped against a large empty barrel. Pickard was lying face down in the dirt only a couple of feet from him .

“Chester!” I exclaimed upon seeing him. I holstered my pistol before crouching down next to my friend. I cautiously lifted Chester to his feet. “What happened here, huh?”

“Ooohh… Oh, no, I’m all right…” Chester moaned, reaching for the back of his head.

“Did he try to get away from you, or something?” I asked.

Chester looked at me blankly. “Huh?”

“Did he try to get away from you?” I repeated.

“No…”

While we were speaking, Dobie knelt beside Pickard, examining him. Now, he stood, collecting Pickard’s pistol from the ground as he did so.

“He’s dead, Marshal.”

“He’s dead?” Chester repeated, clearly stunned.

Dobie brought the pistol over to me. “Here’s his gun…” He paused to sniff the barrel. “...it’s been fired.”

I frowned, trying hard not to show as confused as I felt. “Did he jump you, or…”

“Uh… No, no, he didn’t jump me!”

“Well, what’d you shoot him for?” I demanded, losing the battle to keep my patience.

“Well, I didn’t shoot him!”

“Well, it sure looks like you did, Chester,” Dobie interjected.

“Well, I don’t care what it looks like, I didn’t shoot him!” Chester protested. “I-I got hit! Somebody was hiding behind this barrel here, and they just jumped out and hit me!”

Dobie glanced at the back of Chester’s head. “Well, you ain’t bleeding nowhere.”

I glanced around, hoping to see something that might indicate a third person being present. Unfortunately, it was too dark to see anything, and too many people had walked around the area to make tracking the culprit a viable possibility now.

“Well, I don’t care whether I’m bleeding or not, I got hit right back there…” Chester continued his protests. He clutched the back of his head again. “...Just as plan as anything. I didn’t shoot him! I heard the shot, but I just couldn’t do nothing!”

“Who was he?” I asked. I could feel my own head beginning to ache again. I was supposed to be resting in bed by now, not dealing with this mess. My question at least made Chester pause in his denials to think.

“Well… I didn’t see him. I don’t know who he was… He… I heard a noise, and I started to turn around, and just as I did somebody hit me just like that!” Chester smacked the outer edge of his right hand against his left palm for emphasis. “That’s all!”

Dobie glanced down at Pickard’s body. “I never had any use for him. You all know that. But Chester, I can’t hold with murder.”

“Mister Dobie, I didn’t kill him!”

“He threatened to get you tomorrow. You could’ve killed him while you had the chance,” Dobie insisted.

“I got hit, I tell ya! I got hit just as plain as anything!” Desperate, Chester turned to me. “Mister Dillon, you believe me, don’t ya?”

“It’s going to be awfully hard to prove, Chester,” Dobie pointed out. “There’s not…” He checked the back of Chester’s head again. “...There’s not a mark on you.”

“Well then, you just let Doc take a look at me, because he can tell you that I got hit. My goodness, I wouldn’t just shoot anybody like that.”

I’d heard enough. My head had started to pound, and I felt my limited energy draining rapidly. I placed my right hand around Chester’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you up to Doc’s. Dobie? You stay here and look after the body until we get back.”

We started to walk away. Dobie was quick to protest.

“Now just because Chester’s a friend of yours…”

“You know me better than that,” I growled dangerously. That made Dobie back down. I placed a hand on Chester’s shoulder, gently guiding him away. “Come on.”

We made our way over to Doc’s office. Fortunately, the lights were still on, indicating that Doc hadn’t gone to bed yet. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, I opened the door, gently pushing Chester inside.

“Doc?”

Doc emerged from his back room. He must’ve been reading or something, because he was still fully dressed.

“Matt? Thought you’d be fast asleep by now.”

“I thought I’d be too, only Chester here has manged to get himself into a spot of trouble!”

“Not Pickard again?”

I nodded grimly. “Yeah, I’m afraid he’s dead, Doc. Shot. Chester here claims he was hit in the head by the person who did the shooting. Jim Dobie firmly believes that Chester murdered Pickard. I’d like you to try and verify if he was hit or not.”

“I’m telling you, I was hit, Mister Dillon. I was knocked out cold until you helped me up.”

Sighing, Doc swiped his mustache. “Hop up on the table there, Chester, and I’ll take a look.”

Chester sat down on the examination table, with his back facing towards the door. While he was getting settled , Doc lit the lamp on his desk. Once the flame was going nicely, Doc handed there lamp to me.

“Here, hold that there, Matt,” Doc instructed. He leaned over, gently tilting Chester’s head forwards into the light. “Let me see… Yeah, that’s fine.”

Chester reached for the back of his head. “It’s right there, Doc…”

“Well, now, just get your hand away there. Let me see…”

Chester dropped his hand out of the way. Doc parted Chester’s hair, searching for signs of a wound.

“Well, what in the world did you get hit with?” Doc asked.

“Well, I don’t know, Doc,” Chester snapped. “I didn’t even see him.”

“Well… Might have been the edge of his hand, or something. It’s not swollen; the skin’s not broken…”

“Well, it’s bruised or something, ain’t it?” Chester asked hopefully.

“I can’t see anything.”

“Well, it must have done something to it, Doc!”

Doc gave up looking and he removed his glasses. “Now, you just wasn’t hit very hard.”

“Well it was hard enough that it knocked me clean off my feet! I was plum swimmy-headed for a full minute!”

Grimly, Doc put his glasses away in their case. He glanced at me, and I could see the look of concern on his face.

“I-it was long enough for him to pick up the gun and shoot Ned Pickard, that’s how hard it was!” Chester insisted.

“Did you have your hat on?” Doc asked. “Well, I thought, maybe the hat might have cushioned the blow, or something.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Doc. There’s not a mark on him.”

“I just don’t understand this at all, Chester,” Doc mused.

“Doc, are you trying to tell me that… you can’t testify that I got hit?”

“You wouldn’t want me to get on a witness stand and lie for you, would you, Chester?”

Chester glanced anxiously at me before looking back at Doc. “Well… No… I wouldn’t want you to do that. Of course not.”

Doc kindly took the lamp from me and he carried it back over to his desk, setting it down carefully.

“It’s just too bad Jim Dobie had to be there, that’s all…” Doc muttered despondently.

I was too exhausted to remain standing a moment longer, so I removed my hat and joined Chester on the examination table, facing him. Chester glanced over his shoulder.

“Doc?”

I let out a wearisome sigh. “Well, Chester, Do bie ’s always liked you, but I’m afraid he’s convinced you did this. He’s liable to testify against you.”

Chester looked back at me. “Well, I don’t see how he could, Mister, Dillon. He didn’t even see it.”

“No… Unfortunately, nobody saw it.”

“Well…. I, uh… Guess I got myself in a pretty fix, didn’t I?”

I placed my right hand on Chester’s right shoulder, wishing I could say something positive to help him feel better. “Well, now, let’s not give up too easy, huh?” It wasn’t much, but I was too tired to think of anything else to say at that moment.

“Mister Dillon, you don’t think that I did this, do you?”

I removed my hand and made eye contact with my friend. “Chester… If you say you didn’t do it, that’s good enough for me. But it looks bad. It looks real bad.”

Chester glanced back at Doc. Clearly, he was hoping to hear something more positive from us. “Doc?”

Doc rubbed his chin as he stepped closer to us. “Well, Chester, I… I… I wouldn’t worry about it…”

“Well, I can’t help but worry about it, if we don’t find out who done it. I’m the one that’s gonna have to stand trial! It’s not you! And it sure don’t look too good!”

Not knowing what else to say, Doc walked over to the door.

“You’d worry too if you was in my shoes!” Chester shouted.

I gave Chester’s right shoulder a reassuring pat as I wearily stood up. “Come on. Let’s go back to the office, huh?”

Solemnly, Chester followed me over to where Doc was standing. “Well… Are you gonna put me in jail, are you?”

Realizing that that was what Chester was concerned about, I scoffed and shook my head. I fiddled with with my hat as I spoke. “No… No, I’m not going to put you in jail, Chester. But you’d have to stay around the office for a few days.”

“Well, all right…”

I put my hat back on. “Gonna be enough talk around about this as it is...” Then, despite my exhaustion and headache, a thought struck me that might help Chester feel a little better. I rested my hands on my hips and stamped my right foot. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Tomorrow morning, I’ll go down and talk to Nita Tucker.”

“What for?”

“Well, maybe she can give me some idea as who had it in for Ned Pickard.”

Doc nodded in thoughtful agreement.

“It’s not much to go on, but it’s all we got,” I explained.

Now it was Chester’s turn to fiddle with his hat. At least he looked a little more hopeful. “Yeah, well, I guess it is.”

“Well, uh…”

I was about to ask Doc something, but I promptly forgot what it was when Doc opened the door for us. I led the way onto the landing, but then I remembered what I was going to say.

“Chester? You go on back to the office. I just want to ask Doc something.” I stepped back inside Doc’s office, closing the door behind me. “Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you give me something to help me sleep tonight?”

Doc frowned with concern. “I can… But I don’t think you’ll need it. You look dead on your feet.”

“I feel it too. I’d probably sleep fine if I was on my own, but I’m gonna sleep in my office with Chester, just in case I relapse. He’s so worked up about all this that he’ll probably keep me awake all night if I don’t have anything to help me sleep.”

“I see…” Doc mused thoughtfully. He went over to his medicine cabinet. “I’ll just give you a couple of sleeping pills. They’re not as strong as sleeping powder, but they should knock you out faster than you’d fall asleep naturally. Here.”

Doc placed a couple of small white pills into my outstretched hand. I popped them into my mouth. Doc handed me a glass of water so I could swallow the pills.

“Thanks, Doc,” I said, handing the glass back to him. “I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve bid you goodnight already.”

Doc waved a hand dismissively. “Just go to bed, Matt. I’ll stop by your office in the morning to check on you.”

Nodding, I turned to leave. Then, remembering something, I turned back to face Doc.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I left Dobie with the body. Said I’d be back soon…”

“Go on. I’ll take care of it, Matt.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

I left Doc’s office, closing the door softly behind me. By the time I’d reached my office, I could feel the pills starting to take effect. Wearily, I entered the office, almost stumbling down the step. Only one lamp had been lit, and it cast a dim, amber glow throughout the room. Chester was sitting on his cot, wallowing in his own misery. He flinched when I closed the door.

“What did you want to see Doc about?”

“I just needed to get some medicine,” I explained as I hung my hat on its usual peg. I unbuckled my gun belt as I crossed the room.

“Oh.”

With a heavy sigh, I hung my gun belt on its peg. Then, I sank down onto my cot.

“I’m gonna sleep in tomorrow, Chester,” I said as I pulled off my boots. “Don’t wake me for anything less than a…” I was about to say ‘murder’, but Chester’s despondent expression stopped me. I dropped my gaze.

“Sure, Mister Dillon…”

After pulling down the sheets and blankets on my cot, I climbed in and settled down to sleep.

“Mister Dillon?”

“What is it, Chester?” I mumbled, but I’m not sure it came out that way. I don’t remember what Chester asked me, because I’d already drifted off to sleep.

***

The next morning, I was abruptly awoken by the sounds of Chester banging around with the stove, as usual. Sighing sleepily, I rolled over onto my left-hand side, letting m y left arm flop over the edge of the cot. I’d almost fallen asleep again when I heard the door open. I knew it was Doc before he even spoke.

“Mornin’ Chester.”

“I don’t see what’s so good about it, Doc!” Chester snapped, slamming the frying pan down with a loud bang.

“Good heavens, Chester! You be careful there, you hear? That’s cast iron, you know!”

I shifted and moaned loudly with annoyance. Hearing me, Doc set his medical bag down on the table before coming over to me.

“Chester? How did Matt sleep last night?”

“Better ‘n me, I’ll tell you that, Doc.”

Doc swiped his mustache. “Sorry I asked.” He perched himself on the edge of my cot, so he could examine me. I opened my eyes when I felt Doc take hold of my left wrist to feel my pulse. Seeing that I was awake, Doc tenderly brushed my hair back with his hand so he could feel my forehead.

“Hey, Doc,” I whispered.

“Matt. How are you feeling today?”

“Better, I think…” Groaning, I sat up. The movement made me cough a couple of times. “Have you had breakfast yet, Doc?” I asked as I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“Not yet. Why? You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear that!” Doc said, smiling broadly.

I got up and I washed my face at the washstand.

“What about you, Chester?” Doc asked. “You wanna join us for breakfast?”

“No thanks, Doc,” Chester muttered despondently. He was perched on the end of my desk, fiddling with a short length of rope. “I ain’t hungry.”

As they were speaking, I dried my face. I then crossed the room to collect my gun belt and put it on.

“Leave him be, Doc,” I whispered as I collected my hat from its peg. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, Doc followed me out of my office. We crossed the street and entered Delmonicos. Finding a vacant table, we sat and ordered our breakfast. I began devouring my food almost as soon as it arrived. Doc watched me, bemused.

“You might want to slow down a little there, Matt. I’ll be treating you for indigestion next.”

I laughed just as Kitty entered the restaurant.

“Well, now! This is a sight for sore eyes!”

Doc and I promptly stood up as Kitty joined us. I quickly swallowed the mouthful of food I’d been chewing.

“Morning, Kitty,” Doc and I greeted her, almost in unison.

“Mind if I join you gentlemen?”

I responded by pulling out a chair for Kitty. She grinned as she sat down. Doc also sat down.

“Thank you, Matt.”

“My pleasure, Kitty.” I returned to my seat and resumed eating.

“So, how are you feeling this morning, Cowboy? I can see that your appetite has returned.”

“Oh, he’s almost fully recovered now,” Doc answered, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Haven’t you, Matt?”

I nodded. Kitty smiled hopefully.

“Doc, have you prescribed anything to help aid in his recovery?”

“Like what?”

“Like a day of fresh air, sunshine and fishing?”

“Oh! That!” Doc chuckled and shook his head slightly. “I haven’t, but that’s not such a bad idea, Matt.”

“Much as I’d like to, I really need to start investigating what happened last night. Sorry, Kitty.”

Kitty dropped her gaze. “It’s all right, Matt. Do you think Chester really shot Pickard?”

“I know he’s not capable of deliberately killing a man in cold blood, but he could’ve shot Pickard accidentally.”

Kitty raised her head. “Is that likely?”

I shrugged as I picked up my coffee cup. “Anything’s possible, Kitty. But speculating won’t help clear him. I need to start gathering evidence.” I finished my coffee and stood. Fishing a few coins out of my pocket, I tossed them onto the table to pay for my breakfast. “I’d better get started. See you later, Doc. Kitty.”

“Bye, Matt.”

“Take it easy today, Matt, you hear?” Doc warned.

I placed my hat on my head. “I will, Doc. I promise.”

Chapter Text

“Look, lemme tell you somethin’… Well, I… I need you here, that’s all…”

“Why?”

“Well… Well, because outside of Doc in here… Well, you’re the only man I can trust around Dodge, that’s all…”

“Oh… Mister Dillon… Y-y-you d-don’… Y-you… Thanks.”

“Chester, I… You know, let me tell you something. I’ll tell you one thing, and that is that you’re no good to me lying here. You’re no good at all.”

“No, I ain’t worth it… Doc said that I’d be up and about in a little while, just as good as new.”

“Well, you better hurry up, that’s all I got to say. Well… I guess I’d better go and get cleaned up now. I’ll see you later.”

***

“Doc?” I called as I softly closed the door to the back room in Doc’s office, where Chester was resting. A quick scan of the room told me that Doc was conspicuous by his absence. Seeing that his medical bag was also gone, I reasoned that he must’ve been called away in a hurry.

With nothing else to do, I went over to the wash stand and filled the basin with fresh water from the jug. Using a clean face towel from the small pile on the stand, I carefully washed the blood, sweat and dirt from my face. Once the worst of the muck had been removed, I could clearly see that I’d be nursing several fist-sized bruises around my face for a few days. I winced when I carefully dabbed the inch-long cut just beneath my left eye.

The office door opened and Doc entered. I began carefully drying my face while Doc set his bag down on his desk.

“Where’d you disappear to?” I asked.

“Just thought I’d go and inspect your handiwork. You really did a number on Stobo.”

“He’s okay to leave town, isn’t he?” I asked as I dried my hands.

Doc nodded as he swiped a hand over his mustache. “Oh, sure. He was coming around when I left. He’ll be sore for a few days, but… Well, the way you punch, I’m surprised you didn’t launch him into next week!”

I chuckled. “After the way he treated Chester, he deserved every single punch I landed, and more.”

“I don’t doubt it. How are your knuckles this time?”

I held out my hands so Doc could inspect them. He put on his glasses before doing so. He grunted indifferently.

“You’ll live. I’ll clean them up for you anyway.” He gestured towards the examination table. “Take a seat. I need to take a look at that eye too.”

Grimacing due to my muscles beginning to stiffen up, I managed to perch myself on the table. Doc poured fresh water into a clean basin, so he could wash and dry his hands thoroughly. After doing so, he came back over to me.

“Just tilt your head a little this way,” Doc instructed, motioning with a hand the direction he wanted me. I did so, giving Doc a better view of my eye.

“Looks like the bleeding’s stopped. It looks worse than it actually is. Reckon you’ll have a nice shiner around your eye tomorrow. I’ll just disinfect the cut, along with your knuckles.”

“Thanks. Will I need any stitches?”

Doc frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll cover it with a small strip of bandage though. Just to keep it clean for a few days.”

Doc went over to one of his medicine cabinets. He returned carrying a small bottle of carbolic acid and a clean, soft cloth. I winced in anticipation, knowing full well just how badly that stuff stung. Doc tipped a small amount onto the cloth.

“Sorry, but this is gonna sting…” Doc warned as he brought the cloth up to my left cheek.

The fumes from the carbolic acid began stinging both my eye and the wound before Doc could even touch the cloth to my skin. I gasped and flinched away, like a horse shying from a darting rabbit.

“For goodness sake, Matt!” Doc exclaimed, startled by my violent reaction.

“I’m sorry, Doc,” I muttered sheepishly. “I just wasn’t expecting it to sting THAT much.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help that. Try and keep still now...”

Doc placed his other hand on top of my head to try and keep me still. I flinched again when he began bringing the damp cloth closer to my eye again.

“Matt…” Doc growled, clearly irritated.

“I can’t help it, Doc! Much as I trust you, it’s just very disconcerting having you poking around so close to my eye like that!”

Doc grunted. “If you don’t keep still, I’ll be poking you IN the eye next! You’re behaving worse than Chester, and that’s saying something!”

I sighed with frustration as Doc removed his hand from my head.

“I have an idea,” Doc said after a moment of thought. “Why don’t you lie down? You won’t be able to move around so much if you do.”

I nodded in agreement. “Good idea, Doc.”

Once I was lying prone on the examination table, Doc resumed his attempts to disinfect my facial wound. This time, due to my head having greater restriction on the pillow, he was able to do so successfully. Unfortunately for me, the burning sting from the carbolic acid caused my eyes to tear, making it appear like I was crying. Doc didn’t say anything while he cleaned the wound as thoroughly as he could.

“There now,” Doc said soothingly as he removed the cloth. “That’s as clean as I can get it for now. We’ll have to keep a close eye on it, just in case it gets infected. I’ll just clean your knuckles, and then I’ll cover that wound. Just stay lying down for now. Won’t hurt you to rest there for a few minutes.”

“Yeah…” I mused. Blinking the tears from my eyes, I stared up at the wooden ceiling. With my eye still smarting, I barely even felt Doc clean my knuckles with the carbolic acid.

Someone knocked on the closed office door.

“Come in!” Doc called as he removed the cloth from my right hand.

“Hello, Doc,” Kitty said as she entered the room. She closed the door softly behind her “Shiloh came and told me what happened, so I thought I’d best come and see how Matt is.”

“Well, I reckon he’ll live this time,” Doc teased, glancing down at me. “With any luck, that cut on his face won’t leave a scar.”

“I hope it doesn’t,” Kitty purred. “Would hate to see his handsome face ruined.”

Kitty leaned over me, smiling her sweet intoxicating smile. Staring up at her, I almost forgot to breathe.

“How are you feeling, Cowboy?”

“Um…” I was at a complete loss as to what to say. Doc and Kitty laughed heartily.

“How’s Chester doing, Doc?” Kitty asked.

“You can go and see him, if you like,” Doc invited. “He’s probably still awake.”

“Thanks, Doc. Let me know if you need any assistance with Matt.”

“I could’ve used your help about ten minutes ago,” Doc muttered ruefully as Kitty disappeared into the back room.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Doc, astute as always, noticed.

“I’m glad she’s still taking your breath away,” he teased, before turning to prepared the bandage.

I decided not to grace Doc’s unnecessary comment with a response. After a moment, Doc returned to my side. He gently covered the cut on my cheek with a small strip of cotton, held down with adhesive tape.

“There now,” Doc said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He smirked as I sat up.

“Care to share the joke?”

“I was just thinking, if you had another bandage on the other side, and a second black eye, you could be mistaken for an Indian wearing war paint.”

I scoffed. “Well, I feel like I’ve been through a war! How much do I owe you?”

Doc waved a hand dismissively. “For that? Nothing. You just go and get some rest. Keep that bandage dry. I’ll change it for you in the morning.”

I nodded as I slid off the table. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll be back to check on Chester again in a few hours.”

Doc nodded in agreement. After I’d pinned my badge back onto my chest, I collected my vest and gun belt from the hatstand where Doc had hung them earlier. Then, I left his office. I’d just reached the base of the stairs when I heard someone at the top of the stairs behind me. Turning, I saw Kitty beginning to descend.

“Matt? Wait for me.”

I waited. Kitty caught up with me, and she slipped an arm around my waist.

“I’m glad Chester will be all right,” Kitty said. “He was lucky he wasn’t killed!”

“If he had been, I’d have hung Stobo myself,” I muttered darkly.

Kitty wisely decided to change the subject. “You didn’t tell me how you’re feeling?”

“I’m a bit sore, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“Your eye is beginning to swell.”

I reached up to feel it for myself. “Doc reckons it’ll be fully bruised by tomorrow.”

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” Kitty batted her eyelids flirtatiously.

I felt the color rising in my cheeks. “Uh… Well, not out here… Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?”

“At Delmonico’s?”

I nodded. “Six o’clock all right? I’ll come get you.”

“I’ll be ready.” Kitty kissed the tip of her index finger before pressing it to my lips. “See you later, Cowboy.”

Kitty walked away swinging her hips seductively, leaving me completely breathless once again.

…

A cool, evening breeze whipped around Kitty and myself as we stepped out of Delmonico’s later that evening. Kitty slipped her reticule around her wrist.

“Well, Matt, that was a lovely dinner. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Kitty. I’ll walk you home.”

“Thank you.”

Just as we’d reached the Long Branch Saloon, three drunken ranch hands tumbled out, whooping and hollering. Not seeing me, two of them drew their pistols and began taking potshots at one of the street lights. Pushing Kitty safely behind me, I drew my own pistol.

“All right, hold it!” I ordered. “That’s enough! Drop those pistols!”

Begrudgingly, the drunken men stopped shooting and tossed their guns down onto the ground.

“Aww, Marshal! We didn’t see you there!”

“We was just havin’ a little fun, Marshal!”

“Yeah, well, your fun just ended,” I told them as I collected their pistols. “Keep your hands where I can see them and get moving. Now!”

With their hands raised, the two men began stumbling down the street towards the jail. I turned to the third man, who looked ready to pass out. I gestured with my head towards the jail.

“You can join them until you sober up.”

“Sure, Marshal…” the man slurred. He stumbled after his friends, badly singing a few strains of a folk song.

I turned to Kitty. “Sorry, Kitty.”

“It’s all right, Matt. Why don’t you stop in later for a nightcap, and uh…” Kitty glanced around before lowering her voice and adding, “...then we can go up to my room?”

I swallowed. The invitation was a tempting one. For the past few months, Kitty had, on occasion, invited me up to her room to share her bed. It had all began one evening when a drunken card dealer had started a brawl in the saloon. While trying to break it up, I’d been momentarily stunned by a hard blow to the back of my head. The fighting only ended after I’d discharged my pistol into the ceiling before threatening to shoot the next man who moved. The next thing I clearly remember was waking up in Kitty’s bed the following morning, with her sitting up beside me, wearing her lace nightgown and caressing my face. After I’d calmed down somewhat, Kitty had informed me that, after Chester had taken the miscreants off to jail, I’d passed out. Doc had managed to rouse me enough to be helped upstairs to Kitty’s room, which he’d reluctantly agreed had been the best place for me that night. I don’t think he’d intended for Kitty to join me in the same bed.

Since then, Kitty had taken to inviting me up to her room sometimes, usually on special occasions. It had become easier to accept her invitations following that first, unexpected, incident. After purchasing a half interest in the saloon, Kitty had ceased entertaining her customers, making me her sole companion. However, I felt awkward about the situation because I was now unsure of where I stood in my relationship with Kitty. Clearly, she wanted to be more than friends, but she also knew my reasons why I could not marry her while I wore a badge. I spent everyday knowing I had a 50-50 chance of seeing the next day, and I wasn’t prepared to leave her a widow with young children to raise on her own.

“Sorry, Kitty,” I apologized. “I’ll stop by for the nightcap, but with Chester indisposed, I need to stay in my office tonight, to keep an eye on my guests.”

Kitty was clearly disappointed. “I understand, Matt. Stop by when you’re ready.”

“I will.”

I followed my prisoners, herding them into the cells once we’d reached the jail. I took the third man’s pistol from him before locking him up. He was too drunk to notice. I locked all three pistols in my desk drawer. I glanced at the small, narrow cot with disdain before heading out again.

I made my way up to Doc’s office to check on Chester. Doc was busy cleaning his medical instruments when I entered.

“Evening, Doc.”

Doc glanced over his shoulder at me. “Matt. How are you feeling?”

“Ah, not too bad. How’s Chester?”

“He’s sleeping.”

I quietly opened the door to Doc’s back room to see for myself. Although it was dark, there was enough light flooding into the room for me to see that Chester was indeed fast asleep in Doc’s bed. I closed the door softly.

“How long do you reckon it’ll be before he’s up and about again, Doc?” I asked as I sat down in the chair beside Doc’s desk.

“A few days at least. He’ll be sore for a few weeks. Speaking of sore, how’s your eye?”

Before I could answer, Doc reached out and gently tilted my head back so he could examine it for himself.

“I think the swelling’s gone down a little,” I said.

“Maybe…” Doc agreed. He waved a hand in front of my left eye, testing to see if I could follow it without moving my head. “The bruise will be purple by tomorrow. Any double vision or blurriness?”

“No…”

Doc let go of my head. “How about a headache?”

I shook my head slightly. “I’m a bit tired I guess, but that’s all.”

Doc nodded. “All right. I suggest you go to bed early and get some rest. At least you’ll have some quiet in your room.”

I shook my head again. “Can’t do that, Doc. I’ve got three drunks as my guests tonight. And with Chester out of action, I need to sleep in my office tonight.”

Doc frowned. “Well… I suppose that can’t be helped. I’ll stop by first thing in the morning to check on you and change that bandage.”

“All right. Thanks, Doc. I’ll see you in the morning.” I stood up and headed to the door. After opening it, I glanced back at Doc. “Goodnight, Doc.”

“Night, Matt.”

…

I was still fast asleep the next morning when Doc entered my office. Kitty had given me a fancy new brandy to try for my nightcap, and it had made me so drowsy, I’d fallen asleep on my cot shortly after I’d returned to my office.

What woke me was the sound of someone banging around with the stove. Out of habit, I assumed that it was Chester.

“Can you be any louder, Chester?” I muttered groggily.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to be so noisy if you’d kept the fire going all night,” Doc grumbled, confusing me.

“Doc?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Well, for heaven’s sake!”

“What?”

“The coffee pot is completely empty!” Doc slammed the empty vessel down, making me jump slightly.

Groaning, I sat up slowly, my sore muscles protesting. Instinctively, I went to wipe the sleepy dust from my eyes. I yelped and flinched when I touched my black eye. Doc stepped around the corner, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Feeling a bit sore and sorry for yourself, huh?”

“Yeah, Doc. How bad is my eye?”

“Well, it’s purple. I’ll just wash my hands, so I can change that bandage for you.”

I stretched again, taking greater care this time so I wouldn’t hurt myself. “Say, what time is it?”

“Oh, just after six.”

I groaned in disbelief. “When you said early, you sure meant it!”

“I don’t get to lounge around all day like you,” Doc retorted. “If you went to bed before midnight, you’d get enough sleep too.”

“I’d like to, Doc… Really, I would, but unfortunately, drunks and criminals like to work at night.”

I conducted a self examination of my wounds while Doc cleaned his hands. My left eye was tender, but not as swollen as it had been yesterday. I had a few bruises on my arms, and a small one on my jaw, but otherwise I was just sore from the effort of punching up Stobo. I imagined he didn’t feel much better, wherever he was.

Having washed and dried his hands, Doc returned to my side. He carefully peeled the bandage off my check, making me wince.

“That actually doesn’t look too bad now, Matt. In fact, I think you’ll be fine leaving it uncovered, as long as you don’t try to scratch the scab.”

I breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, Doc. Guess I’d better get myself moving.” I stood up and stretched again. “How’s Chester this morning?”

“Oh, he was still sleeping when I left. I’d better get back to him now anyway, seeing as there’s no coffee made up for me here…”

Doc collected his medical bag and headed for the door, while I pulled on my vest.

“Hey, Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“See you for breakfast in an hour?”

“Sure, Matt.”

“Good.”

Doc left, closing the door behind him. After putting on my gun belt, I retrieved the cell keys so I could go and rouse my three sleeping guests, pending their release. Since they disturbed the peace last night, it was only fair that I got the opportunity to disturb theirs in return.